


An Algorithm for Dating

by TomFooleryPrime



Series: Another Spock/Uhura Series [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Awkward Flirting, Cultural Differences, Denial of Feelings, Eventual Relationships, F/M, First Kiss, First Love, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Starfleet Academy, Teacher-Student Relationship, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:16:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 130,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7824496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomFooleryPrime/pseuds/TomFooleryPrime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cadet Uhura needed an advisor for her senior thesis and Commander Spock was glad to be of assistance. Things were going well, until Spock unintentionally discovered Gaila's "Am I on a Date?" checklist. Awkwardness and hilarity ensue as Spock and Uhura privately struggle to convince themselves and others that there is nothing between them... right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Checklist

**Author's Note:**

> This work is the sequel to _[Seventy-Four Hours Later](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7389214/chapters/16784749)_ , though enough background information should be provided so that it can be read as a standalone story. Expect slow burn. Slower burn. Slowest burn.

Commander Spock set the PADD on his desk and reflected on the contents of Cadet Uhura's introduction to her senior thesis on frequency harmonics. It was insightful, but also verbose and repetitive in parts. He began considering his corrections to her work when he heard an ear-piercing squeal erupt from the other end of the lab.

His eyes flicked in the direction of the noise and he saw the Orion cadet, Gaila, giggling uncontrollably.

"Is there an issue, Cadet?"

"Oh, _sorry_ , Commander," she mumbled, stifling further giggles and turning back to her computer.

He could see from the reflection in a computer screen to his left that she was toggling between the Academy's private messaging system and the source code he'd assigned her for remedial instruction. Though she had many talents – Orions were famous for their intuition and Gaila was no exception – she was a mediocre computer scientist at best. She might have been good if she really applied herself, but at her current level of effort, she was mediocre at best. 

Unfortunately, Spock found that Gaila all too often ended up a slave to her biology, and her education was frequently interrupted by her impulsive need to pursue her male classmates and occasionally, male instructors. He could not fault her for it: she was Orion, after all. Though it was unreasonable to expect her to conform to his far more restrained principles where matters of interpersonal relationships were concerned, she still had the responsibility to perform her duties and complete her coursework, and he often sensed she did not put forth the obligatory effort.

She laughed again and clasped her hand over her mouth.

"I was unaware that reductive regression testing of your algorithm would be so stimulating," Spock mused.

"Oh, it's- _you know_ ," she stammered, glancing at him over her shoulder. 

"Perhaps you should focus on your task," he said, eyeing the time on his computer terminal.

Spock had asked Cadet Uhura to meet him in the basement cafeteria to discuss her paper and he was due to be there in precisely 27 minutes. The likelihood of Cadet Gaila completing the program to standard in the allotted time was infinitesimally small.

"I'm almost done, sir," she called.

Twenty minutes and several more mirthful outbursts later, he informed her that he needed to leave.

"Oh, _right_ ," she cried. "I know you have places to be."

Her tone seemed suggestive of something, yet he often found he lacked the same precise skill at deciphering body language and tone as many of his non-Vulcan counterparts. Gaila quickly trotted out of the laboratory. Spock was preparing to lock it up for the night when he noticed she'd failed to power down her computer terminal.

He had signed for the access card to this laboratory and therefore he had ultimate responsibility for the equipment. It had been a minor oversight to allow Gaila to leave without returning the terminal to proper standard, one he did not intend to repeat.

As he approached the console, several words caught his eye and he realized she'd left her private message screen active. It was a gross breach of privacy to read what she'd written, but the content was difficult to ignore once he spied his name.

> _Gaila: Do you want to go to the Brass Oyster tonight? I met this guy Lex there the other night and he has this friend and asked if I could bring someone._  
>  _Nyota: Can't. I'm meeting Commander Spock for dinner in the basement cafeteria._  
>  _Gaila: You're meeting Commander Spock for dinner?_  
>  _Nyota: To discuss my thesis._  
>  _Gaila: That sounds more like a date_  
>  _Nyota: It's not a date. It's Commander Spock. And the basement cafeteria._  
>  _Gaila: It's just the two of you, eating, talking..._  
>  _Nyota: So?_  
>  _Gaila: Those things are both on the checklist_  
>  _Nyota: What checklist?_  
>  _Gaila: The "Am I on a Date?" checklist_  
>  _Nyota: There's a checklist?_  
>  _Gaila: Yes_  
>  _Nyota: Share please_  
>  _Gaila: Off the top of my head?..._  
>  _Gaila: How do you know each other?_  
>  _Gaila: Are other people going to be there?_  
>  _Gaila: Are you in public place?_  
>  _Gaila: Is there food?_  
>  _Gaila: Is there alcohol?_  
>  _Gaila: Was the word "date" used?_  
>  _Gaila: Do they seem nervous?_  
>  _Gaila: Did the other person obviously take a shower today?_  
>  _Gaila: Who is paying if goods or services are being exchanged?_  
>  _Gaila: Do you know each other's friends?_  
>  _Gaila: Do you know each other's families?_  
>  _Gaila: Do you want to see this person naked?_  
>  _Nyota: That seems pretty vague. And why does it always come down to being naked with you?_  
>  _Gaila: I bet he looks good naked. Good for a Vulcan I mean._  
>  _Nyota: He's my professional mentor. I don't think about him being naked._  
>  _Gaila: I bet you do_  
>  _Nyota: I bet I don't._  
>  _Gaila: Liar. You LIKE him, don't you?_  
>  _Nyota: No._  
>  _Gaila: …_  
>  _Nyota: Do you really think people will think this is a date?_  
>  _Gaila: Yes_  
>  _Nyota: It obviously isn't._  
>  _Gaila: It obviously COULD be_  
>  _Nyota: I seriously doubt that's what he had in mind when he asked me to meet him in the cafeteria._  
>  _Gaila: So he asked YOU out?_  
>  _Nyota: He asked me to meet him in the cafeteria. He didn't ask me out._  
>  _Gaila: You could get a lot of guys. You're pretty, and you pick the one guy who would never notice._  
>  _Nyota: I didn't pick him. NO ONE'S BEING PICKED._  
>  _Gaila: I have to go. He's kicking me out of the lab. Apparently, he has somewhere to be! HAHAHAHAHAHA_

Spock powered down the computer terminal and quickly reflected upon the situation. Did Cadet Gaila really perceive his shared meal with Nyota as a possible romantic encounter? Did Cadet Uhura? He was due in the cafeteria in four minutes and was uncertain of the best way to approach this revelation.

He could find no logical solution that did not implicate him in infringing upon Cadet Gaila's privacy. Of course, she had left the terminal unattended, which was a violation of the Academy's security policies, but that was irrelevant to the situation.

Regret was illogical, yet he knew his actions had been imprudent when he'd read the message transcript. Vulcans admired curiosity, but deeply respected privacy. It was a unique paradox. He turned to exit the lab when Gaila burst back in, clearly short of breath from running.

"Oh, _sir_ , I just realized I forgot to turn off my work station," she gasped.

"I have attended to it," he replied. "I must go."

"You didn't- uh- _you know_ , read? Yeah, never mind," Gaila murmured. "Have a good night, Commander Spock."

He nodded to her as she left the room and followed her into the hallway. It was 1928 hours and the building was quiet. He moved quickly to the turbolift to descend to the basement, wondering if he was inadvertently "going on a date," as humans referred to it.

He arrived at the cafeteria exactly at 1930 hours. The eatery was quiet and sparsely occupied. Cadet Uhura was alone, sitting with her back was toward him, chewing the thumb fingernail of her left hand. It was an unsanitary habit, but one he was aware that humans often performed when experiencing anxiety.

He cautiously approached her and began to wonder if the parameters of preliminary human courtship had to be mutually agreed upon for them to be valid. If _he_ did not consider it a date, did that mean it could still be a date if _she_ thought it was, or if some third party thought it was?

"Good evening, Cadet Uhura," he said.

"Commander Spock," she said rising in deference out of respect for his rank.

He motioned for her to sit. She had yet to obtain food and was looking at him expectantly. He realized he'd left the PADD containing her paper in the computer laboratory. How curious that he would make such an absentminded error. Cadet Uhura folded her hands across the table and began chewing on her bottom lip.

Spock was unsure how to proceed. He had certainly _not_ intended this as a romantic meeting. He was her advisor, nothing more. The Academy had policies in place prohibiting any such relationship between them and he wished to clear up the confusion without admitting that he had knowledge of her private conversation with Cadet Gaila.

Then it occurred to him that Cadet Gaila had actually outlined the specific criteria for categorizing one's social engagements as dates. He would simply need to analyze her proposed list and devise an informal algorithm to avoid future misunderstandings. _A simple solution._

"So, do you want to get something to eat?" she asked.

"Yes," he agreed, rising from his chair and motioning toward the food line. "After you."

As they proceeded toward the cart with the utensils, he recalled from memory Gaila's list, and instantly noticed the ambiguous nature of each individual item. For instance, they _were_ in a public place and there _was_ food, but did that imply that this _was_ or _wasn't_ a date?

He had eaten lunch with the Academy's Chief of Physics earlier that afternoon and there had been no indication that anyone perceived their shared meal as a date. But then, Dr. Kolba was Bolian _and_ male, so it seemed there might be additional considerations, such as whether the individual was of the sex to which one was attracted and of a compatible physiology.

He was momentarily adrift in his own deliberations and didn't notice they had both reached for the same bin of spoons until their hands brushed one another and he experienced a fleeting, pleasant sensation.

Her forefingers had touched his inadvertently, very much like the Vulcan practice of ozh'esta. The finger embrace was a deeply personal display of affection among his people; he retracted his hand without taking a spoon. She'd quickly pulled back her own hand and looked at him innocently.

 _He_ did not consider this a date, but it was clear that this would require further analysis and research.


	2. Who's Paying?

Nyota knew she had a tendency to overanalyze things, but her tendency seemed to be turning into an obsession. She dragged herself up the staircase to her dorm room, examining her meeting with Commander Spock, carefully considering each word, gesture, and pause that had transpired. Things had never been weird until today.

If she was going to be honest with herself, it _was_ Commander Spock, so things were always a little bit weird, but never like this. She rolled her eyes at her own inability to pinpoint why she was so nervous around him now.

Gaila seemed to think she had a crush on him, and she had to wonder if Gaila had ever actually _met_ the man. Maybe _that_ was her problem: the fear that other people were beginning to think there was something going on between them. That bothered her for two reasons. 

The first was that people liked to gossip, but obviously no one liked being the _object_ of gossip. If rumors went around that she liked Spock, no doubt he would eventually find out, and that would be mortifying. Of course those rumors wouldn't be _true_ ; she would never have any romantic interest in the boring, uptight Vulcan, but of course rumors didn't have to be true for them to be embarrassing.

The other thing that bothered her was the fear that maybe they _were_ true. Gaila was horrendously perceptive. She could hone in on the emotions and actions of others, so maybe she was putting out some kind of signs that she liked Spock. But she didn't like Spock. She couldn't. She felt like she would know if she liked someone. 

This was all Gaila's fault. Why did Gaila have to say anything?

She decided right then and there that in the future, she would only meet with Spock in his office, with the door open, during school hours. More importantly, she would have to tell Gaila to keep her green mouth shut. Gaila was a notorious blabbermouth, but Nyota had kept enough secrets for her that she hoped her roommate could return just _one_ favor.

She swiped her access card in the door and found Gaila sitting on her bed in her bra and underwear, cheerfully reading something on her data PADD.

"You're back early," Gaila mused with a knowing smile. "I had hoped you'd go back to _his_ place."

" _Why would we do that_?" she sneered. "There is _nothing_ going on between me and Commander Spock, my advisor, my teacher, the _Vulcan_ , a member of the faculty."

"You know, the more you insist there's nothing there, the more it sounds like there is," Gaila said, playfully rolling onto her back to stare at her.

Nyota sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

"Ok then, I will just say it _one_ more time. There is _nothing_ going on between us, and there never will be. Please do not spread the rumor that Commander Spock and I are dating, or interested in each other in any way, or that we're _anything_. We're not drinking buddies, we're not golf partners, we don't cheer for the same sports teams, we don't send each other birthday cards, and we don't even ask how the other person's day has been. It's strictly professional. So please keep your misguided opinions about the nature of our _professional_ relationship to yourself. _Got it_?"

Gaila offered a thin smile and looked down at the floor.

"Who did you tell?" Nyota gasped.

" _No one_ ," Gaila blurted. "You're my _friend_. I wouldn't gossip about you, or let anyone know that you have a thing for Commander Spock."

Nyota scowled and was about to correct her when Gaila added, " _On purpose_."

"What did you _do_?" Nyota hissed.

"Well, I had remedial lab tonight and Spock was in there supervising," her friend began.

"You _told_ him?" Nyota yelped, taking a few steps forward.

" _No_ ," Gaila insisted, sitting up and waving her hands defensively. "But you remember how we were chatting on the Academy's server? Well, I left the lab without turning the computer off, and when I went back, he was in the middle of doing it for me. I think he might have read-"

"Oh my God, you _didn't_ ," she breathed, taking a few menacing steps towards Gaila.

Her roommate began to cower defensively and rolled off the other side of the bed.

"I- I doubt he read it," she stammered. "I was only gone for a minute and he doesn't seem like the kind of guy that would read someone's private messages."

Nyota furiously began trying to remember _exactly_ what they'd said, but her mind was too jumbled to think. She knew the messages would still be stored in her log, so she stormed over to her desk and powered on the workstation.

"What are you doing?" Gaila asked, her voice squeaky and high-pitched. 

"I'm just going to reread-"

She stopped herself. Would knowing what they'd discussed make this any better? Probably not. If anything, it would only make it worse. But she also knew she would agonize over it if she didn't.

" _Um_ , I was kind of hoping you had plans or could maybe- _you know_?" Gaila stammered.

"You invited a guy back to the room, didn't you?"

"Well, you bailed out on going to the bar with me, and-"

The door buzzer interrupted her.

"You know, you could at least put some clothes on first," Nyota chided.

Gaila shrugged and threw on a bathrobe and moved toward the door. Nyota grabbed her running shoes and a pair of athletic pants from her dresser and retreated to the bathroom to change. As she closed the door, she noticed the guy standing in their room was a young, first year cadet. Nyota rolled her eyes: he probably wasn't even old enough to shave.

Long runs often helped clear her mind and her mind was full to the brim at the moment. As she prepared to leave their shared dorm room, her roommate and her roommate's next conquest were already sitting comfortably close to one another on Gaila's bed.

"I'm just leaving," she groaned, refusing to make eye contact.

She stuffed her dirty uniform into the clothesbasket by her bed and grabbed her wristband wallet with her access cards and rushed out of the room. She ran down the stairs two at a time, hoping Gaila would remember to keep to her side of the room. It had taken her roommate a depressing amount of time to learn about personal boundaries and respecting other people's property, but she knew her friend never meant to be rude. She was just Orion.

Orion women were very communal. Nyota recalled once in their first year when she'd caught Gaila wearing _her_ underwear, and Gaila had been very confused about why she was so offended. Gaila explained that she would have offered to lend Nyota a pair of underwear if she needed them and didn't think it was a big deal to just help herself to her roommate's delicates.

That had been the first of many cultural misunderstandings between them, but for as much as her Orion roommate could drive her up a wall, Gaila was a good friend who would never hesitate to help her if she needed it. She had been there through thick and thin, and that was more than she could say for most people.

Nyota reached the bottom of the stairwell and stepped out into the night. The streetlamps were on and illuminated the light mist that hung over the campus. She inhaled deeply, felt the humidity roll through her lungs, and jumped straight into a quick jog.

Most of the campus' running paths were crowded in the evenings, but tonight the cold weather and drizzle kept all but the most devoted runners inside. She turned left at the major fork at the edge of the administration buildings to head into the nearby park, sensing that she could use an extra long run to collect her thoughts. Her thoughts were focused entirely on Commander Spock.

She had gotten to know him on a more personal level two months earlier, during a training mission gone horribly wrong. They'd struck a Nausicaan mine, crash landed on a planetoid near a nebula, and survived together in the wreckage before being rescued.

Before enduring that hardship together, she'd always thought he was just a cold and fastidious regulation worshipper. Her opinion of him hadn't really changed: he was still very callous and very much a stickler for details, but somehow, spending hours in a freezing shuttle with him, injured and waiting to die, had given her an appreciation of his exacting outlook. He held himself to an impossibly high standard and it had saved their lives.

She began to feel the tug of a breathing cramp in her right side and realized she was nearly sprinting. She slowed to a jog, feeling silly that she'd been so engrossed in her own thoughts that she'd failed to pay attention to her running form. Her calf muscles started to tighten up and she slowed to a walk.

There were days when she still had doubts about asking him to be her thesis advisor. During their awkward dinner, he had suggested so many changes to her introduction that she'd had to stop herself from asking him if he would just prefer to write it himself. Sometimes it felt like a constant battle to keep her attitude in check whenever he opened his mouth.

That was why she couldn't understand why Gaila seemed to insist that she liked him. Maybe she thought about him a lot, but that was because she thought about her _thesis_ a lot, and he was her thesis advisor. The crash of the _Dalton II_ was also still pretty fresh in her mind: she occasionally had nightmares about it. Since he had been there with her, it was only natural that he would turn up in her thoughts from time to time. Therefore, thinking about someone did not equal _liking_ them.

The steady drizzle gradually shifted into a more substantial rain. She broke into a run at the first crack of thunder, but rather than turn right to run the full four kilometers along the running trails back to her dorm, she turned left out of the park, sprinting across the busy city intersection to take shelter under the awning of a coffee shop.

She caught her breath and blinked water out of her eyes. A peel of lightning illuminated the wet concrete in an instantaneous bright haze. The wind was picking up and beginning to cast freezing, stinging raindrops into her face. Nyota turned her back to it and peered through the window of the coffee shop. It was nearly empty.

"Good evening, Cadet Uhura," called a steady voice behind her.

She wheeled around to see Commander Spock standing behind her, also probably taking shelter from the unanticipated storm. What was he doing there?

"I think 'good' is probably a relative term," she scoffed, wiping away the water dripping from her chin.

"So it is," he agreed, moving past her to enter the coffee shop.

He held the door slightly open and raised an eyebrow. She smirked and followed him inside, instantly feeling grateful for the warm rush of air from the shop's environmental settings.

"Hi there!" called a cheerful woman from behind the counter. "Can I get something started for you?"

"Oh, um, I'm just trying to get out of the weather," Nyota started to explain, instantly feeling guilty as she watched puddles begin to form under her wet feet.

"I believe it is customary to make a purchase if one intends to stay in a place of business as a means of relaxation," Spock interjected.

She had to stop herself from glaring at him. Now he was giving her a lesson on manners?

"Um, I'll take- I don't know. I don't really drink coffee?" she mumbled, moving forward to the counter.

"Tea? Hot chocolate?" the woman suggested.

"Um, surprise me," Nyota shrugged.

"Uh, _ok_?" the woman replied with a judgmental glance before turning to Spock. "And for you, sir?"

"Hot tea, please. I am impartial to the particular variety."

"Easy to please tonight, _I guess_ ," the woman frowned, disappearing to the other end of the counter to make their drinks.

She struck Nyota as the kind of woman who was not often given to spontaneity or whimsy and preferred hard answers to shrugs and I-don't-knows. She could respect that – indecisiveness was irritating.

She tried to brush back the wet tendrils of hair that were stuck to her forehead and glanced down to notice her black sports bra was clearly visible through her soaking wet, light gray running shirt. She casually crossed her arms across her chest and felt her cheeks beginning to burn.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. He'd seen more of her than that back on the _Dalton II_ when he'd helped treat her broken ribs with the bone knitter. Still, that had been _different_. She dared herself to look at him and tried to act casually and she noticed for the first time that he was barely even damp.

"So, what are you doing out in this weather?" she asked.

"I was on a personal errand and did not anticipate the weather would grow worse," he explained. "I stood under the outside canopy for several minutes, but the storm became severe enough that the canopy's ability to provide shelter from the rain became inadequate."

"Here you go," the woman replied, coming back to the front of the counter with their drinks. "Who's paying?"

"Huh? _Oh_ ," Nyota winced, scrambling for her chip card from the wallet on her wrist.

Spock handed the woman his card and she scanned it in her register. Nyota finally managed to fish her card out and tried to hand it to the woman, who looked at them both innocently.

"Were you two not together?"

" _No_ ," Nyota said flatly. "Why would you think that?"

"You came in together."

"Sure, but we're not _together_ ," Nyota argued, pointing back and forth between Spock and herself.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the woman said, looking down at the register and shrugging. "It's only my second day. I can probably figure out how to give you a refund, if you-"

"It was a misunderstanding. The amount is inconsequential," Spock interrupted, collecting his tea and moving away from the counter.

"Commander Spock, _no_ ," Nyota groaned. "You don't have to buy me a- what _is_ this?"

"Hot chocolate," said the woman behind the counter.

Nyota cringed. Hot chocolate. Like she was seven years old. "You _really_ don't have to do this."

"It is of no matter," Commander Spock insisted, taking a seat at a table by the kitchen.

She reluctantly picked up the cup, knowing that continuing to protest would only make it more awkward. Just as she was beginning to wonder if it was possible to feel more embarrassed, she immediately realized it probably was. What should she do now? 

Would it be more presumptuous to just park herself in the seat across from him, or more rude to sit at another table by herself, especially after he'd just bought her a hot beverage that she didn't even want?

He looked up at her and despite her soaking clothes and chilly weather, she felt herself beginning to sweat. She took a few test steps forward to see if she could read from his body language whether he'd intended for them to sit together. She could sooner read the body language of a corpse. He was _Vulcan_. He would wear the same neutral expression, regardless of whether he was at a funeral or a championship sporting event.

Why was she making this more difficult than it needed to be? She huffed and quickly strolled up to his table and sat down. He seemed unfazed and she began to relax, even if only a tiny bit.

She hunched her shoulders forward to allow her wet shirt to hang more loosely, rather than allow it to remain plastered to her chest. She took a sip from her drink and sputtered. It was scalding hot, so she set it down carefully on the table and looked at Spock. He was watching her with a measure of disinterest and she tried to think of something to talk about. They had discussed her paper at length over dinner and she couldn't think of anything new to say about it.

Then she remembered her conversation with Gaila and that stupid checklist, and things went from a little uncomfortable to completely, utterly, painfully awkward.

"How is your tea?" she croaked.

"Adequate."

She frowned. In the weeks since he'd been helping her with her thesis, they had been getting along reasonably well. Sometimes she'd stay in his office later than she intended to, casually discussing mathematics or debating the evolutionary linguistics of Federation Standard English. She felt annoyed that all it took was one silly conversation with her roommate to make things weirder than they had ever been with Commander Spock.

He was interesting and he had a wide range of interests. So did _she_. So did a _lot_ of people. That didn't mean she liked them. As the seconds ticked by, the silence began to grow more uncomfortable.

"Um, thank you, for buying my drink, even though you didn't exactly mean to," she muttered, reaching for the cup to take a slight sip of the still steaming liquid.

"You are welcome," he replied, setting his teacup down.

"I haven't had hot chocolate since I was really little."

"I have never consumed that particular beverage."

" _Really_?"

"Chocolate produces mildly intoxicating effects in members of my species."

"So what do Vulcan children drink when the weather is cold instead?"

That prompted a long conversation about Vulcan cuisine and approximate Terran analogs. In the middle of their discussion, she found she was smiling inwardly. Sometimes coaxing him into conversation could be tricky, but all it took was the right catalyst.

So what if Gaila thought she liked him? She obviously _didn't_. So what if Gaila thought that him buying her hot chocolate on a cold, rainy night meant they were on a date? It obviously _wasn't_. Gaila was very intuitive but she could still be wrong.

Several hours later, the woman running the shop politely asked them to leave so she could close up for the night and Nyota was surprised to find the weather had cleared while they had been talking. They parted ways at the door, since she was going left and he was going right. She stretched her calf muscles by standing on the tips of her toes and broke into a run back toward the dorms. She felt good – _better_ than good, even.


	3. The Chrysanthemum Crisis

Spock exhaled slowly and felt the pull of air as it exited his lungs. It worked well to soothe his mind and recenter his focus, but it would do little to solve his current dilemma. After nearly four hours of deliberation and meditation, he had come to the conclusion that he held a fondness for Cadet Uhura that extended beyond the boundaries of a proper professional relationship.

He had begun to analyze the possibility of a subconscious affection for her after they'd inadvertently brushed fingers while reaching for silverware in the cafeteria earlier that evening. It had felt quite pleasant, but he had initially dismissed the sensation, since he was not in the habit of intimately touching human females, and thus he had no basis for comparison.

He had considered the theory resolved, at least until he'd happened to meet her by chance under the awning of the coffee shop just hours before. He had been on his way to collect new insignia for his dress uniform when he'd gotten caught in the storm and shared an impromptu hot beverage with her.

They had spoken at length about Vulcan cuisine and dining customs and during the course of their discussion, he became aware of how much he enjoyed her company. She was intelligent and asked thoughtful questions without being overtly attention seeking like many other students. Though she could occasionally be pushy or emotional, he appreciated her more candid elements when taken in consideration with the other components of her personality.

It was only when they prepared to leave the coffee shop that he noted a momentary urge to touch their fingers together again and it was that primitive instinct that had led him to abandon procuring the necessary uniform insignia in favor of a period of deep, contemplative meditation.

He had limited romantic experience with females of any species – he did not feel as though his infrequent encounters with T’Pring made for adequate comparison – but upon further reflection, he conceded that the Vulcan practice of ozh'esta likely would not have felt pleasurable between individuals if there was no underlying attraction. This concession caused him to evaluate other instances of physical contact between them, and though he could not examine _her_ possible interest, he could examine his own.

He considered their interactions during the _Dalton II_ incident and recalled a similar experience of accidental ozh'esta when she helped him repair a broken bone knitter, as well as the discomfort he'd actively suppressed when assisting her with mending her broken ribs. When he recalled the unintentional kiss they'd shared in the total darkness of the _Dalton II_ 's cabin during a vacuum fluctuation, a repressed, fleeting memory of his own physical response resurfaced and that was when he finally decided that it was likely that he harbored some slight romantic interest in her.

He would never _act_ on that interest. The Academy's policies on student and faculty relationships were vague, and though there was occasional talk of updating them, Spock could not understand why a member of the faculty would begin a romantic encounter with a student. To pursue Nyota would be unethical, as it would be exploitative of the trust she placed in him as her advisor.

It would be simple enough to continue to suppress whatever possible, lingering affection he might have for her, but he was also aware of the human propensity to gossip. The _appearance_ of a relationship would be just as damning as an actual relationship, and he immediately understood the necessity to maintain the image that their connection was purely professional.

As he ruminated further, he realized Cadet Gaila's messages to Cadet Uhura were problematic. If Cadet Gaila believed he had romantic intentions when asked her to dinner in the cafeteria, it was possible others would perceive his actions in a similar manner. 

He recalled Cadet Gaila's checklist for determining whether or not a meeting could be classified as a date and began to assess the coffee shop encounter. He stood and made his way to the planning board mounted on the back wall of his quarters and began to map a flowchart and pictorial logical set.

He considered the list first in chronological order, and then attempted to order it in perceived importance to the subject matter.

The first question was ambiguous. " _How do you know each other?"_ It was a question with an unlimited number of answers, and because of its subjective nature, he set it aside to study the others.

_"Are other people going to be there?"_

The coffee shop employee had been present, as well as two other patrons during the course of their conversation, but the setting had been more intimate than what they typically experienced at the Academy. She often met with him in his office, but his other students frequently came and went during the course of their discussions, so there was never the appearance that those encounters were private and therefore, unlikely to be considered dates.

_"Are you in public place?"_

This criterion was similar to the first one. The coffee shop was obviously a public establishment, but his rudimentary understanding of dates was that they could take place in both public or private settings, with the latter generally understood to be the precursor to sexual activity.

 _"Is there food?"_ and " _Is there alcohol?"_ seemed like derivatives of some other widespread human practice of dining during romantic meetings. He had already determined that these standards alone were not indicative of a date and should be used as discriminating factors once other criteria had been met.

_"Was the word 'date' used?"_

This seemed the most obvious place to start, so he moved it to the beginning of the flowchart. A meeting that had been mutually agreed upon through concrete language to be a date could logically be characterized as a date. But the word "date" had not been used in his meeting with Cadet Uhura: their meeting had been unexpected.

_"Do they seem nervous?"_

This was a question with a binary answer but a subjective determination. What constituted nervousness? Humans were very expressive, and he'd observed a wide range of behaviors that indicated anxiety. During examinations, he often noted nervous students had a tendency to do things like grind their teeth, chew their lips and cheeks, shake or tap their feet, chew their nails, twirl or pull their hair, and breathe loudly, among many other mannerisms. The action seemed relative to the individual and he had no basis for establishing what constituted apprehensive body language in Cadet Uhura.

_"Did the other person obviously take a shower today?"_

He scrutinized this question for the underlying intent more than the exact words, given that he showered daily despite never having previously formed any romantic interests. In the most literal sense, Cadet Uhura had also likely showered that day, but he had encountered her after a period of exercise, and thus her appearance had understandably been below her normal standard.

He theorized that this question served more as a benchmark for general grooming habits. Most sexually reproducing species, Vulcans included, performed various preening rituals as a means of attracting a mate. He noticed many human females painted their fingernails or colored their faces with cosmetics, but not all of them. Furthermore, many females he knew to be in relationships performed this ritual. He would need to do further research into the approaches humans took to gain the attention of potential partners. 

_"Who is paying if goods or services are being exchanged?"_

He could not determine the precise rationale of this criterion. Was there some standard based upon gender or profession, or for the person with the romantic attraction to pay? She had seemed upset when he'd inadvertently paid for her drink, so perhaps it was inappropriate for him to have done so, were their encounter a date. This determination led him back to the question of " _Do they seem nervous?"_ and he decided that she _had_ , immediately following the employee's error at the sales register. He moved onto the last three questions before beginning deeper analysis on this particular question.

 _"Do you know each other's families?"_ seemed to be a more intimate derivative of " _Do you know each other's friends?"_ and so he categorized them together, with the former being a subcondition of the latter. They spent most of their days within the halls of Starfleet Academy, so he knew many people within her social circle, but they were his students, not his own friends. Neither of them knew the relations of the other, but he understood that in many cultures, introducing a prospective mate to one's family was a critical step toward matrimony.

_"Do you want to see this person naked?"_

He was unsure how to consider this final question. Vulcan adherence to logic allowed him to control his baser urges through discipline, so he was not reduced to experiencing vestigial instincts to do things like fight or mate without cause. He had never _consciously_ considered her in a sexual context, though it occurred to him that he had wished to engage in ozh'esta with her upon leaving the coffee shop.

He began trying to examine the list as a whole. After three hours of work to assemble it in a meaningful flowchart, he remained unsuccessful. The exercise had done much to demonstrate how little he truly knew about human courtship rituals, given the only logical conclusions he could draw based upon the list and his knowledge of Terran culture told him he should avoid introducing her to his family or thinking about her in the nude.

Light began pouring in through the window: he had meditated and worked through the night with no clear resolution. He entered the small bathroom adjacent to the bedroom to begin his morning hygiene routine and considered his possible courses of action.

He accepted that he had an interest in Cadet Uhura that went beyond academic pursuits, but he also believed he was fully capable of suppressing that interest and continuing to perform as her thesis advisor. His only concern was to limit the perception that they were romantically involved, and though Gaila's checklist was arbitrary and almost certainly incomplete, it had at least given him points of interest to investigate further.

He dressed in a clean uniform and left his quarters precisely 39 minutes prior to the start of his regularly scheduled morning office hours. He stopped by the faculty break room on the third floor for a light breakfast, and while he was in the middle of pouring himself tea, he found his thoughts interrupted by a fit of sneezing.

" _Who keeps bringing these damn flowers_?"

Spock turned to observe Lieutenant Bautista staring ruefully at an arrangement of purple chrysanthemums on a central table.

"I believe Commander Riegelman's mother is a local florist," Spock explained.

"That's _nice_ , but why does she feel the need to torture everyone with an allergy apocalypse?" Bautista moaned.

"Perhaps a visit to medical would be helpful in alleviating your symptoms," Spock replied, leaning away from her as she erupted into a fresh flurry of sneezes.

"Oh _no_. I hate doctors, almost as much as I hate flowers. And _spring_ ," she wheezed.

Commander Ashley Riegelman chose that very moment to enter the break room. Bautista glared at her. "Did _you_ bring these?"

"Yeah, why?" Riegelman shrugged. "And you should really blow your nose; you have some drippage."

"It's like you _want_ me to die," Bautista snapped.

" _Die_?"

" _Those_ ," Bautista hissed, pointing toward the vase. "I'm- huh- al- huh-" She was interrupted by another hearty sneeze.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of flowers?" Riegelman joked. "Spock, tell her she's being illogical."

Spock often found himself called upon to insert logic into trivial debates between various faculty members and had learned long ago that many of them had no genuine interest in the application of logic when it failed to support their claims.

"Don't drag him into this," Bautista interjected. "Just get rid of them." She sneezed again into her sleeve and stormed out of the faculty break room.

" _Fine_. Excuse me for trying to bring a little beauty into an ugly world," Riegelman called after her with a roll of her eyes.

"Perhaps they would be more suited to your office," Spock said, waiting for the food replicator to finish producing a cup of herbal tea.

"I already have three flower arrangements in my office. My mom is nuts and keeps making more than she sells. You take them."

"They are aesthetically pleasing, but I have no use for them."

"No one has any use for flowers. They're _flowers_. Come on: just take them. I bet they'd look nice in your office."

Before Spock could object, Riegelman thrust the vase into Spock's hands, saying, "Thanks again. I have to run."

"Perhaps you could give them to someone who would prefer to have them," he called after her. She didn't respond.

Spock examined the vase and the flowers, uncertain of what to do. The human practice of trimming the reproductive organs of certain species of plants was peculiar: he had often wondered why someone wouldn't prefer to retain the entire plant.

Flowers seemed to hold some ceremonial function to humans, as they had been present at the two human funerals he'd attended since he joined Starfleet nearly eight years ago. He was also aware they were a requirement at weddings: last year he'd shared an office with Lieutenant Commander Johar, who had spent the entire term planning her pending nuptials and spent more time browsing online wedding forums than actually working.

He did not wish to cause some cultural offense by disposing of them, so he collected his cup of tea and the purple vase and headed toward his office. The hallways were full of students running to make their earliest classes, and as he approached a hallway intersection, a junior cadet sprinting from the other direction slightly bumped into him, causing him to spill his tea down the front of his uniform.

"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry, sir," the young man cried.

Had the cadet been travelling more slowly, he might have had time to stop before they collided, and thus Spock recognized that the cadet shouldered most of the blame for the incident, but not _all_ of it. It was logical to admit he had erred in failing to carefully observe his surroundings, which might have also prevented the collision.

"I- I'm going to be late- it's Commander Petrov- I can't be late again," he stammered, looking between Spock and a door at the far end of the hall.

"You are dismissed, cadet," he answered. "Though perhaps in the future you would do well to remember to maintain a more appropriate pace."

" _I'm so sorry_!" he yelled, already halfway down the hall in a sprint.

Spock reflected upon the human adage of advice falling upon deaf ears and glanced down to the floor. Some of the brown liquid was dripping from his fist and pooling at his feet. He scouted for a janitorial closet to obtain the necessary cleaning supplies.

"Commander Spock, will you still be holding special office hours this afternoon?"

He didn't need to turn around to identify the speaker: he recognized Cadet Uhura by her voice, and as she drew nearer, the slight scent of coconuts and the spearmint gum she often chewed.

"I had intended to, yes," he answered.

"Oh, ok, thanks, I'll- what happened, sir?" She caught up with him just outside the cleaning supply closet and was staring at the wet stain on the front of his uniform.

"It is unimportant," he replied, pushing his back against the swinging door.

"Oh, well, I wanted to stop by this morning, but I just realized I have to go back to my dorm for something. I wanted to let you know I'd be there this afternoon, just in case- do you- _do you need help_?"

She stood in the threshold of the doorway, watching him with open curiosity. He set his mostly empty cup of tea down on a nearby shelf and considered the vase in his left hand.

"Hold these momentarily," he instructed, offering the arrangement to her.

"These are really nice. And they _smell_ nice," she noted, looking around at the boxes of supplies.

"Then keep them."

"What? Oh, _no_ \- I didn't mean-"

"They are of no use to me," he explained. "You evidently admire them more than I do. Take them."

He located a box of sponges beneath several mop heads and began to rearrange the supplies to get at his intended target.

"Uh, I don't think I can take these, sir," she mumbled. "It's- I think- I mean, they _are_ nice, I um- just don't know if… you _know_?"

He looked at her, noting how intently she was staring at the fluffy, purple blossoms.

"I would have to rearrange my limited office space to make room, which I would prefer to avoid," he said, opening the box to procure a sponge.

He stood upright and she moved out of the doorway to allow him to pass back into the hall. He saw her glance at the digital clock on the wall.

"I really shouldn't take these," she said, following him back to the location of the spilled tea.

"Then feel at liberty to give them to someone else, or dispose of them if it is correct to do so."

"I didn't mean- um, I hope I didn't- _have I offended you_?" she asked.

"Offense is illogical," he replied, turning to look at her before bending down to blot up the liquid on the floor.

"Uh, I have to go," she mumbled, looking over her shoulder.

"Yes, as do I." He finished cleaning his spill and moved to return the sponge to the janitorial closet.

"Um, then I'll see you this afternoon at 1600 hours?" she called after him.

"I shall expect you."

"Um, I guess, _thanks_? Uh... for the flowers?"

"You are welcome, but your thanks are unnecessary," he replied. "As I said, I have no use for them."

He heard her footfall grow fainter as she walked briskly in the opposite direction. He rung out the sponge in the wide sink, rinsed his hands in the antiquated water-based faucet, and collected his cup from the shelf. He was overdue in his office.

There were four students lined up at the door waiting for him to arrive, one of which was Cadet Gaila. Her presence caused him to recall her list that he'd spent the previous night attempting to analyze.

Not only had his most recent interaction with Cadet Uhura been entirely proper, but he also had not consciously thought of her in any way other than as his student. He wished to meditate on the matter further in order to fully quell whatever lingering attraction might exist, but he believed he was capable.

Yet one thing troubled him. He was aware vocalized pauses were often subconsciously employed by humans when they were nervous. A number of his students tended to utter more "ums" and "uhs" than legitimate words when addressing him.

Cadet Uhura had used quite a few of them during their encounter in the hallway and that was quite uncharacteristic of her typical speech pattern. It was therefore logical to conclude that she may have been nervous.  _But why?_


	4. The Worst Date Ever

What the hell was she supposed to do with these flowers? Why did he give her flowers? She walked back to her dorm at a pace very close to running, feeling the eyes of everyone she passed falling upon her in judgment. She could swear they _knew_. Commander Spock had given her flowers. It just didn't make any sense.

She fumbled the key card in the door to her dorm and set the vase down on her nightstand and stared at them, almost as if expecting them to explain what had just happened. She sat down in her bed, put her hands on her knees, and stared harder.

When she thought about it rationally, it seemed like he'd given them to her almost as an afterthought. She said they were nice and he told her to keep them. That certainly didn't seem like any romantic overture she'd ever seen or heard of.

Maybe it was a tactic: maybe he gave them to her nonchalantly so that if she _had_ refused them, he could have played it off like he didn't care. No, that was ridiculous. That was dumb and pathetic even by _human_ standards, and Spock was Vulcan.

She'd eventually accepted them because she thought she was offending him by continuing to decline. Did Vulcans even get offended?

Telling her to "just throw them away" seemed almost temperamental, but again, that was silly. Commander Spock was the least temperamental individual she knew. She wondered if it there was any point to looking for some hidden meaning or motivation behind why her Vulcan thesis advisor would give her flowers.

Purple flowers. Purple was her favorite color. No, that was stupid – there was no way he could know that. He would also probably say that having a favorite color was illogical.

Maybe there was really nothing more to it than it seemed… He had flowers he didn't want, she said she liked them, and he decided to give them to her rather than throw them away himself.

But why would he have flowers he didn't want? He couldn't have just strolled into a florist's shop and _accidentally_ bought them.

She felt a whirl of adrenaline push through her stomach as she had another thought. Someone else could have given them to him.

" _Ugh_ ," she barked, jumping to her feet and moving closer to the bouquet. Why should it bother her if someone had given her advisor flowers? It _didn't_.

She gently touched one of the slender, soft petals and frowned. They were pretty, so why couldn't she just appreciate them for what they were without trying to read too much into it? She heard the door to the room fly open and saw Gaila burst through the doorway from the corner of her eye.

"Hi!" Gaila called with a cheerful grin as she began tearing through the pile of laundry on the floor.

"Why are you here?" Nyota sputtered, turning around and taking a few steps backward to conceal the vase behind her back.

She didn't want Gaila knowing she had flowers, because that would inevitably lead to questions about where they came from. Knowing Gaila's ability to sniff out the truth, she probably already knew.

"I forgot my security chip," Gailia said. "Nice flowers, by the way. Who are they from?"

"Uh- my mom," she lied, praying it sounded smooth enough to be convincing.

Gaila straightened her back and stared at Nyota. "Oh, well that's nice of her. What's the occasion?"

"No occasion. She just said she was thinking about me. Probably a way of guilting me into calling home because it's been ages." 

"Wait, why are _you_ here?" Gaila asked as she stuffed her fists into the pocket of a pair of dirty trousers.

"Uh-"

Why _had_ she come back to the room? She wanted to slap herself for being so scatterbrained and worried that Gaila would pick up on her anxiety.

" _Oh_ , my phonology paper. I was going to stop by the writing lab before my first class."

She clicked the power button of her PADD to check the time: 0803 hours. If she left _now_ , she might have time to get her work reviewed before her Senior Interstellar Communication Theory Seminar at 0900.

She snatched up the Academy PADD that had her paper and headed for the door. Gaila trailed right behind and they began walking briskly in the same direction.

"Oh, hey, I'm going back to the Brass Oyster tonight because Lex invited me. The friend I told you about is coming too. Wanna join us?"

"I don't _know_ ," Nyota moaned. "Are you sure you wouldn't just prefer to have them both?"

Gaila's left eyebrow raised seductively and she squealed out a laugh. "Oh please, it'll be fun. And you never go out anymore! Your idea of excitement is spending a weekend at a xenolinguistics conference."

Nyota rolled her eyes trying to act indignant, but she was secretly grateful Gaila had reminded her to confirm her tickets for the upcoming xenolinguistics conference in downtown San Francisco next month.

"Gaila, I have less than five months left at the Academy and my life revolves around graduating with honors without losing my mind."

"Do you really think anyone is going to care in twenty years if you finished with slightly higher marks than anyone else? Or gave up Valentine's Day weekend to learn about... whatever it is you do? No one gives out bonus points for those things. Besides, maybe you could be meeting your future husband tonight, but you're thinking of blowing him off for studying."

"You already know I don't want to get married: men are such a hassle. Besides, using your logic, I could also be meeting an axe-murderer looking for his next victim."

Gaila rolled her eyes and lengthened her stride to keep up with Nyota. "You've been hanging around Commander Spock too much."

" _What_? No I haven't!"

"Someone's defensive."

" _I'm not defensive_!"

"She said defensively."

"Why would you say I'm hanging around him too much?"

"You just said, 'using your logic.' That sounds exactly like something he might say."

" _So_? Vulcans didn't _invent_ logic. They don't have a patent on it."

" _Ok_ ," Gaila said with a sarcastic toss of her head.

"Fine. Y _eah_ , I'll go," Nyota replied. "It'll be _fun_."

It came out almost like a threat; she tried to relax her face and smile. She really didn't want to go barhopping with Gaila, but she wanted to put the idea that there was anything between her and Commander Spock to rest once and for all.

"Ok then," Gailed grinned. "I say we leave a little early and get some spritzers before the boys show up. Is 1900 hours ok?"

"Yeah," she replied, turning down the short hallway to her left to enter the writing lab.

"Wonderful! This is going to be so much fun! I've missed doing girl things with you," Gaila said, pulling her into a deep hug before turning to leave for her class.

As she walked into the lab, she realized Gaila was right: they _didn't_ spend much time together anymore. She felt a small wave of guilt for being a bad friend. Sure, Gaila had just manipulated her into doing something she didn't want to do, but she really needed to make more of an effort to spend some time with her friends before they all graduated and left for assignments throughout the quadrant.

The rest of her day kept her busy, but not busy enough to keep her mind from wandering back to the vase of flowers that was sitting on her nightstand. She came up with multiple theories for why Spock had them and why he might have _really_ given them to her, and was annoyed that some of them elicited mild butterfly sensations in her stomach.

The one that she continued to dwell on was the theory that Spock had bought them for someone else, and that person had turned them down. That bothered her, and it bothered her that it bothered her, and it bothered her that she couldn't _stop_ being bothered by it. It was difficult to analyze. The idea that Spock had some secret love interest was hard to conceptualize, but she rationally understood that Vulcans couldn't be a completely chaste and sexless species.

Rather than allow her mind to linger too long on the idea that Spock could have romantic or sexual feelings for _anyone_ , she turned her attentions to thinking about how sad it would be if someone had rejected him. He was a good person, _dammit_ , so why would someone turn him down? Ok, _sure_ , he could be a little cold and condescending, but everyone had flaws.

Lastly, it bothered her a tiny bit that he would give them to her if someone else had refused them. This was the dumbest thought of all, because it was ludicrous to be offended that she wasn't the most important woman in his life worthy of receiving flowers from him. _Obviously_ she wasn't, and _shouldn't_ be. She was his student, he was her advisor, and that was that.

Her mind continued to run circles around itself for the remainder of the morning and into the afternoon and that bothered her too: the idea that a simple bouquet of flowers could upend her entire day. She began to feel anxious as her afternoon meeting with Spock drew closer and she was nearly about to send him a note through the school's messaging server that she needed to cancel when he sent her one first. It wasn't addressed to _her_ specifically, but to all of his students.

_I regret to inform you that special office hours arranged for this afternoon are cancelled. Monday office hours will be held as normally scheduled, and I am available throughout next week during school hours by appointment._

_Commander Spock  
_ _Professor of Computer Science_

She popped a stick of spearmint gum in her mouth and gnawed on it furiously. Why was he cancelling his office hours?

"Cadet Uhura? Any ideas?"

Her head popped up from her PADD to face Lieutenant Ahn. The Trill man's face was studying her intently; her cheeks started growing hot.

"Could you please repeat your question?" she croaked.

"Gladly, if you could please put away your PADD and join our discussion. I believe I made my policy on communication devices during lecture clear at the beginning of the term."

Everyone turned to stare and she wanted to dig a small hole under her feet and hide in it. She had become _that_ cadet.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a blur and she tried her best to avoid thinking about Spock and his stupid flowers. At 1600 hours, instead of going to his office, she went to the library and to work on the corrections and recommendations Spock had made to her thesis, and that lasted all of twenty minutes before she realized she wasn't able to focus.

So she slogged back to her room, sat down on her bed with significant lethargy, removed her boots, and gazed at the vase of flowers. They didn't offer any answers.

She curled into a ball on her small bed and closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of conscious rest. She hadn't slept well since the term started. She didn't know if it was because she was still occasionally haunted by the events of the _Dalton II_ or just that as usual, she'd packed her schedule with an exceptionally heavy course load.

Life was crazy. In less than five months, she would be done with Starfleet Academy and ready for Starfleet itself, and that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying. She'd already been given a taste of the realities of space travel and exploration when she, Sulu, Chekov, and Spock had crashed on that planetoid and fended off harsh elements and Nausicaan smugglers. Cadet Nemechek had died, and they had all gotten commendations. It didn't seem fair.

She settled into a light dream state, one full of images and themes that she recognized but could make no sense of. It was raining, but she was inside a dark room. She could hear faint transmissions from an open comm channel and feel the soft sensation of fingers on her ribcage, but when she looked around, there was no one there.

" _Hey_!" a voice yelled.

" _Ah_!"

Nyota sat upright, looking around in panic. Gaila was standing over her bed wearing nothing but a beaming grin.

"We agreed on 1900 _tonight_ , right?"

Gaila started pulling on a pair of skimpy underwear. After years as sharing a room, she still hadn't gotten used to her Orion roommate's complete lack of modesty. Nyota rubbed her eyes, flung her legs over the side of the bed, and stood to stretch.

"What time is it?"

"1820 hours. I want to get there and get a good table before they're all gone. It's Friday night, you know?"

 _Oh right_. She'd agreed to go to the Brass Oyster, San Francisco's premiere dive bar for lonely-hearted cadets and seekers of mildly illicit substances.

"What are you wearing?" Gaila asked as she pulled on a sparkly red dress that left little to the imagination.

"I hadn't thought about it."

"I think you would look _amazing_ in my black dress, if you want to wear it."

"You mean that piece of lingerie that you try to pass off as a dress?"

"When you accessorize it, it really gives a sophisticated appearance," Gaila argued.

"What would I accessorize it with? A price tag?"

"Are you saying I dress like a prostitute?"

Nyota bit her bottom lip and hung her head in shame, knowing she'd gone too far.

"I'm just not as confident as you," she stammered. "I don't think I could pull it off. I don't have your body."

Gaila smirked and pulled a skimpy, black garment from a hanger in her closet and tossed it to her. Nyota shuddered: it was so _tiny_. She wasn't against short skirts or low-cut tops: she just drew her personal line of decency a little to the right of where her roommate did. She grudgingly got up, put on a black, padded bra, and pulled Gaila's dress over her head.

"I told you that you'd look gorgeous," Gaila sighed, coming behind her to tuck her breasts more neatly into the top half of the dress.

Nyota scowled at her sternly but let it go. That was just Gaila: quirky, goofy, completely _uninhibited_ Gaila. She examined the result in the mirror. She _did_ look sexier than she probably ever had: the dress was tight-fitting and showed off the body that she spent hours at the gym each week working to tone. She _did_ look good, even if the skirt was alarmingly short and her breasts were threatening to emerge from the small strip of fabric currently covering them.

"I don't know," she said, crossing her arms.

Gaila pulled her arms apart and looked her over from head to toe. "I bet your blue heels would give it a nice touch, which would match my beaded earrings if you want to wear them."

She went into their small bathroom to do her hair and makeup and began to feel a little more confident. She had always been a serious student, but she'd never been afraid to go out and have a little fun too. She remembered a drunken bar brawl in Iowa during her first year and smiled. Why had she gotten away from that in the past few months?

She decided to just go for it, applying dramatic makeup with a bold, blue eye shadow to match her heels and earrings. She ironed her hair flat and decided to wear it down in stark opposition to the ponytails she wore in her cadet's uniform each day.

As she walked back into the room to collect her coat and wallet, she looked over her shoulder into the long mirror hanging on her closet door. She looked _good_.

"You spend all this time to look nice and you cover it with a heavy trench coat?" Gaila tisked.

"It's already only 5 degrees outside and only supposed to get colder," Nyota retorted. "I can't believe you're _not_ bringing a coat."

They took a cab to the Brass Oyster and secured a pub table right as the bar was really starting to wake up for the night. She tucked her wallet into her coat pocket and draped it over her chair and looked around. She quickly noticed several pairs of male eyes flick in her direction; she stood up a little straighter. There was no point in wearing an outfit like this if she couldn't be confident about it.

The live music made it impossible to talk at a reasonable volume, but the rhythm was good, so she just sipped her cranberry vodka and enjoyed the setting. She hadn't wanted to come, but this _was_ a nice break from studying, and she was glad for once that Gaila was so pushy.

"Oh _yay_! You made it!" Gaila screamed, leaping to her feet to hug a tall man in dark clothing.

He wasn't just _tall_ , he bordered on sideshow. He easily dwarfed Gaila by fifty centimeters. He was also shockingly pale and had thin, feminine features. He wasn't ugly, but he certainly was unique. Nyota wondered if he might be a human hybrid.

"This is Lex!" Gaila yelled back to her, shouting to be heard over the music.

She shook hands with the slender giant and looked around for his friend. A very short, round man stood just to his right. She prayed he wasn't supposed to be her date, but her prayers went unanswered.

"I'm Brondon," he droned, his voice washed out by the music.

" _Brandon_?" she shouted, extending her hand to shake his.

"No, _Brondon_. Are you _deaf_?"

She pulled her hand back in surprise and was about to say something really rude when Gaila's date, Lex, told him to shut up and stop being such an ass. She looked at Gaila in disbelief, and watched Gaila mouth to her, " _I'm so sorry_."

They took their seats at the table and their male companions ordered drinks. She clutched her vodka cranberry like a shield and looked at Brondon.

He was short, chubby, and had a face that looked like dough with two days' worth of blonde stubble sprouting from the bottom half of it. Sure, looks weren't everything, but their disastrous introduction coupled with the sour look on his face gave her the distinct impression she didn't _want_ to know Brondon. Gaila owed her big.

The band took a break and finally it was just quiet enough for speech to be intelligible. Gaila was already running her tongue down Lex's giraffe neck, so Nyota turned to her own date and tried to strike up conversation.

"So Brondon, what do you do?"

"I'm kind of in between jobs right now, but I do performance art. It's very important to me."

"Oh, like what kind of art?"

"You wouldn't understand it. It's very deep and philosophical."

Nyota wanted to hit this loser in the mouth, but managed to reign in her temper.

"I'm a cadet at Starfleet Academy," she said, trying to change the subject. "I'm studying communications and xenolinguistics."

"So you're a Federation shill then?"

" _What_?"

"Whatever. Do you like Cardassian mushrooms?" he interrupted, pulling a small bag from his jacket pocket.

"Uh, _no_ , I'm good. Thanks."

She watched as he pulled a small pinch from the bag, nibbled at it, and began to smile. She grabbed her pack of spearmint gum and pulled out a piece and he yelled, "I can't believe you chew that stuff. Don't you know it's poison? The Federation uses it to control people, you know."

Nyota gave him a giant fake smile. Gaila owed her _so_ big.

Over the course of the next four hours, she learned that Brondon was trying to save money to move to Risa, which explained why he didn't have money to buy his own drinks. He was also certain he could talk to animals, and his ultimate fantasy was to date a replicant.

She had started the date off feeling completely disgusted, but after a while she stuck around just to see how much worse it could get, or to see if someone would jump out from behind a pillar and yell, " _Ha ha ha, we got you_!"

As it turned out, Brondon wasn't some elaborate practical joke. She was tired and wanted to go back to the dorm and sleep away this terrible night. She knew she would laugh about this someday, but that day was _not_ today. Gaila was well aware of how awful Brondon was and was doing her best to keep the peace, but nothing could make Brondon more likable, not even Gaila's Orion charm.

Nyota excused herself to the restroom, shut herself into a stall, sat down on the toilet and leaned her head against the wall. She had gotten dressed up and excited for a night out, and instead she got _Brondon_. What a stupid name.

Brondon wasn't even an asshole: he was a _caricature_ of an asshole. She couldn't have even dreamed up such a horrible person, and Brondon was _real_. She started to almost doze off when a gaggle of boisterous women entered the bathroom and startled her back to full consciousness.

She pulled herself together, hit the waste disposal button on the toilet just so it wouldn't look weird when she came out of the stall, and moved to cleanse her hands at the cleansing station.

When she returned to the table, she found a new group of people sitting at it. She thought she made a mistake and began searching the bar, but Gaila, Lex, and Brondon were _gone_. She went back to the table she was certain they had been sitting at and panicked. Her coat was also gone, and her wallet and PADD were in her coat.

She went to the rear of the building, thinking they may have stepped out to indulge Lex's disgusting pipe smoking habit, but they weren't there either. This wasn't right: Gaila wouldn't just _leave_ her. She walked around the front of the building and figured they'd probably gone to the club next door, but without her wallet, she couldn't pay the cover charge to get in.

She swore under her breath, noting it was so cold that her breath was actually visible in the crisp night air. She crossed her arms across her chest and shivered. Without her wallet, she also didn't have her public transport pass and couldn't pay for a cab back to her dorms, which was probably about ten kilometers away. That was a _long_ way to walk in high heels in freezing weather with no coat.

"Don't panic," she muttered to herself.

She checked the other adjacent buildings and surrounding area with no luck. She'd been in worse situations before: just two months ago she'd been certain she was going to die on a barren planetoid with Spock, Chekov, and Sulu.

She could handle this; she only needed to find someone who would let her borrow a communicator or PADD to call the staff duty desk at the dorms. They had staff drivers available as a last resort for these kinds of emergencies.

It was past midnight and the streets were getting a little quieter, but there were still a few people milling around. She scanned the faces of passersby, looking for someone who might be trustworthy and sympathetic to her plight.

" _Hey sexy lady_ ," called a voice behind her.

She turned to see a swarthy-looking man who was staring a bit too hard at her legs.

"I'm not interested," she said flatly.

"Who said I was interested in _you_?" he snapped, stepping toward her.

He was clearly drunk. Primitive parts of her brain began sending out alarm bells and she squared her body toward him defensively.

"Look, please leave me alone," she said, trying to project her words into a forceful display.

"Is there a problem?" asked a second voice behind her.

She didn't have to turn around to recognize the speaker with the monotone speech. What was Spock doing here?


	5. Scouting

**_Eight hours earlier_ **

"…so let's be proactive and maintain a strong relationship with the surrounding neighborhoods and greater San Francisco," Admiral Barnett finished. "Are there any questions?"

"Yeah, why is it that cadets can screw up and _we're_ the ones getting punished?" Commander Riegelman muttered. "Why can't they just restrict cadets to campus?"

Her barely audible utterance was clearly intended as typical human passive-aggressive rebellion, but Spock had sensitive ears. He glanced around the room and suspected from the dark faces of most of the other faculty and instructors that most had the same sentiment as Ashley Riegelman did.

"Is this intended as a permanent program or something temporary?" asked someone toward the front of the auditorium.

"We intend to try it for the next month and see how it goes," Barnett replied. "Everyone in here will be on tonight's inaugural shift."

Two hours earlier, Spock had been forced to cancel his previously scheduled office hours to attend this mandatory, unanticipated briefing, where he and forty other faculty members were informed that Starfleet Academy intended to institute a courtesy patrol in several areas near campus in response to complaints from business owners and residents about rowdy cadet behavior.

"We've sent out a memo with location assignments and further instructions. Good luck to you all," Barnett said.

He turned to leave and his aide called the room to attention, and they all stood in deference to his rank. Spock began to make his way toward the back of the room when he heard a female voice call his name. Commander Riegelman trotted up to him with her Academy-issued PADD in hand.

"I guess it's you and me down in Noe Valley," she smirked. "Can you believe this?"

Spock understood her question wasn't literal: the idea of being assigned to an additional detail to patrol a designated area and look for misbehaving cadets was entirely _believable_. He had other things he would _prefer_ to do, but an order was an order.

As they climbed the last of the auditorium's steps and emerged into the hallway she asked, "How do the flowers look in your office?"

"I gave them to another individual who had a greater admiration for their aesthetic value than I do."

"Oh, well, _whatever_."

They walked together for a time, and Spock presumed she was returning to her office, since it was located in the same hallway as his own. "Would you permit me to make a query about human culture?" 

"Will I _permit_ you?" she laughed. "I don't care. Ask whatever you want."

"Earlier you implied that flowers have no function when I explained I had no use for them. If that is true, what is the purpose of cultivating, trimming, and arranging them into ornate displays?"

"People use them for all kinds of things. Weddings, funerals, decorations, gifts…"

"I have observed them at funerals and occasionally as ornamentation, but I was unaware they could be presented as gifts."

"Uh, y _eah_ ," she chortled. "Haven't you ever- oh never mind. I take it giving flowers isn't a common practice where you come from?"

"Many people cultivate flowering plant species as a hobby, though specifically clipping the flowers and giving them to others or putting them on display is not done on Vulcan."

" _Huh_ ," she shrugged. "I always thought flowers were kind of silly myself, but my mom is a florist, so I would never tell her that."

They walked a few more paces when she said, " _Oh_. You don't think- I didn't mean to imply-"

He glanced at her and cocked an eyebrow. He observed a vibrant streak of red flush across her cheeks. "Look, Commander Spock, when I gave you those flowers, it wasn't meant as anything… you know? _Romantic_?"

"I did not believe it was," he explained.

"Oh _good_ ," she breathed.

She uttered a high pitch laugh and he sensed her discomfort, which caused him to recall Cadet Uhura's trepidation at his offering. He deduced Commander Riegelman was probably quite familiar with the subject of flowers, given her mother's profession, so he chose to inquire further.

"Do you imply flowers are often given as gifts for romantic purposes?"

"Not _always_ , but they _can_ be. It depends."

"Upon what criteria?"

"My mom could probably tell you much better than I could, but I guess there are some common themes. Take roses for example: red roses are usually only given to a lover, but yellow roses can signify friendship. A single rose can mean 'thank you' whereas giving someone a bouquet of thirteen roses means that you secretly admire them."

"These are widely accepted conventions?"

"No, not really. It used to be a much bigger deal in Victorian England. The upper tiers of society had this whole language devoted to flowers; it's pretty fascinating, really. But I think nowadays, everyone just gives people flowers they think they'd enjoy."

They arrived at the door to Spock's office and though he had many more questions, he determined he could research them on his own. He bid Commander Riegelman goodbye and sat down to his computer terminal. He glanced at the time. _1710 hours_.

Rather than finish grading the assignments he'd been working on prior to the impromptu briefing, he devoted the next hour to researching the human traditions of flowers and learned that on this subject, the rules were more arbitrary than Gaila's checklist.

He discovered the color purple indicated royalty, and thus implied things like dignity, grace, pride, and success, or so the databases claimed. Chrysanthemums could be indicative of cheerfulness, friendship, family, and romantic loyalty. The pollen they produced was also a common allergen, which explained Lieutenant Bautista's reaction.

The more he researched, the more he concluded Commander Riegelman had been correct. Modern human society had no strict rules on the implications of presenting flowers of certain colors, numbers, or species: the primary focus was the intent with which they were given.

Cadet Uhura had been uncomfortable, therefore it seemed plausible that she believed he had given them to her as a sign of favor or romantic interest. He needed to correct her assumption, but recognized such a task would need to be handled delicately.

After twenty more minutes, he abandoned his fruitless investigation and returned to his quarters. During the briefing, he had heard the night's forecast was anticipated to be exceptionally cold, so he collected his heavy uniform coat, hat, and a set of gloves and made his way to the transport shuttles.

" _Commander Spock_!" It was Commander Riegelman again.

"Since we're both supposed to be down in Noe Valley, you want to work together?"

"We would cover a larger area if we worked apart."

"Well, most of Noe Valley is quiet, residential, and boring," she said, pulling up the map on the PADD to show him.

She was right. All reported incidents in the past three months had been confined exclusively to three streets in a business sector that bordered a residential neighborhood. Her plan was logical, so he agreed.

Starfleet Academy had granted them passes for the public transportation system, so they boarded the shuttle for Noe Valley and fifteen minutes later, they arrived at their assigned location.

"It's only 1900 hours, so I can't imagine there are a lot of people out and about right now," Riegelman yawned.

"Are there designated hours for when people socialize in these areas?"

"No, most of the clubs and bars open right around now and close by 0100 in this area because of the nearby houses," she said. "But no, hours are not _designated_."

He detected a mocking quality to her voice that he disregarded. They set out at a slow pace along the wide sidewalk. The sun had set more than an hour ago, which had significantly affected the temperature. His physiology was poorly adapted to the cold, but the effect of the winter clothing and the exercise of walking helped mitigate his discomfort.

" _Ah, the Brass Oyster_!" Riegelman laughed.

They had turned the corner onto a much busier thoroughfare; directly to their left was a decrepit building with discordant, brassy music offset by loud, pulsing music emanating from an adjacent nightclub with flashing neon lights.

She stopped in front of the smaller structure with the cracked bricks that had been repainted numerous shades throughout the years. The sign above the door was faded almost to the point of illegibility, but featured what appeared to be a cartoon clam-like creature playing a set of drums.

"So many wasted weekends here," she said, reaching for the doorframe.

The nostalgia was plain on her face and Spock was uncertain how to reply.

"I'm guessing alcohol, darts, pool, and loud music aren't your thing?" she grinned.

"As to the first and fourth items, you presume correctly. Darts is a challenging test of precision and coordination, and if by pool you refer to billiards, that is another game I find fascinating for its practical applications of physics and geometry."

"You play pool?"

"I have played the eight-ball, nine-ball, and straight pool variants of the game. I believe I possess a high degree of proficiency."

"I don't know why, but that sort of makes sense," she admitted with a snort. "Did you ever hustle anyone?"

"Are you asking if I have ever engaged in concealing my talent for financial or personal gain? Such behavior would be illogical and unethical."

She stared at him without saying a word and slowly began to laugh until she was doubled over.

"What is the source of your amusement?"

"Don't ever change, Commander Spock. Please don't ever change."

"I did not intend to, though personal evolution and maturation is an inevitable consequence of life."

This comment only seemed to make her laugh harder. As so often happened with his human counterparts, it was apparent that the content of his answer was comical for reasons he could not explain, and asking for clarification often proved unproductive.

Though he yet to find a unifying theme for what things humans found funny, he understood quite well that most of them laughed with little provocation. He recalled a female student in his introductory computer science course last term who often giggled for no apparent reason whenever he'd looked at her.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh," Riegelman hiccupped.

"Then why do you?"

She took a deep breath and said, "You're just so… _good_. It's like you have no real flaws. I bet you never cheated on a test, lied to your mother, or even stole so much as a smile."

"What would engaging in such activities prove?" he asked.

In truth, he had done all three, but he'd had private motivations for each at the time of their occurrence.

"Oh nothing," she said, a weak grin spreading across her face.

He sensed she was embarrassed to say anything further, which was unfortunate. Spock enjoyed discussions with humans about their perceptions of humanity. It had never seemed appropriate to speak of such things to his mother and so few of his human friends and colleagues were willing to speak frankly on the subject in his presence.

One of the only people who had ever routinely done so was Cadet Uhura. There was a momentary recollection of something, but he ignored it and pushed the young woman from his mind.

They continued their patrol of the street for the next several hours. They spoke little to each other, but several residents of the adjoining neighborhood had taken notice of their presence and occupied their time in the human custom of chatting. He had never been accustomed to talking small, but given the circumstances, he was grateful for Commander Riegelman's ability to do so. Like humans, Vulcans were naturally curious creatures, but _unlike_ humans, Vulcans found curiosity in the private affairs of others distasteful.

One very elderly woman spoke with them at length, listing all of her neighbors' perceived deficiencies and demanding to know what could be done. Commander Riegelman repeatedly explained they were not the police, nor were they city code enforcement, and therefore, it would be improper for them to speak with Mrs. Kowalczyk about her patio decorations, or tell the Ikeda family to make their children play more quietly.

The evening continued into the night, and the night grew colder but remained largely uneventful. At 2230 hours, Spock intervened in one very minor physical altercation between two human males, but neither participant had been a cadet, and thus there had been no need to report it.

At 2345 hours, they encountered a young female cadet crying and vomiting in the alley behind a small restaurant. Commander Riegelman transported with her back to campus, but before she left, she wished him luck and asked him to return her public transportation pass to the staff officer on duty. Just before they were transported, the cadet vomited all over Riegelman's boots, and they both disappeared into a beam of swearing and crying.

Spock could not understand the human penchant to drink to excess, especially not repeatedly, but many of his colleagues often complained of a phenomenon called a "hangover." How illogical to seek out pleasure when it would inevitably result in pain.

At midnight, he called back to Starfleet Academy for a communications check and was ordered to return early due to the cold weather and lack of incidents in the area. He began to walk in the direction of the public shuttle stop when he heard a familiar voice.

" _I'm not interested_."

His eyes scanned ahead and he saw Cadet Uhura quite unlike he'd ever seen her before. Her hair hung loosely down her back and she was minimally dressed and without winter clothing.

"Who said I was interested in _you_?"

There was a man moving toward her. Spock judged from the man's posture that he was attempting to threaten her and derived from her unusually loud tone of voice that she was distressed. He lengthened his step without breaking into a run.

" _Look_ , please leave me alone," she said.

"Is there a problem?" Spock asked as he neared their position.

"Is this your _boyfriend_?" the man sneered, speaking to Uhura but pointing to him.

" _No_ ," she retorted, turning to back to face Spock.

Her face was ashen and she was visibly shaking; he couldn't discern whether it was an autonomic response to the cold or to fear. Spock lengthened his stride and said to the man, "I suggest you leave."

The man's face had a leathery appearance. He surveyed Spock and smirked, but still took a stumbling half step back. Spock moved forward between the man and Cadet Uhura and the man wisely began to retreat. The acrid smell and his slightly slurred speech suggested he was intoxicated, and it would be illogical to pick a fight with a man who was not in complete control of himself.

"I don't want any trouble. I was just telling the lady she was beautiful and she can't take it as a compliment."

"Look, just _go away_ ," she barked.

"Girls these days are so sensitive," the man murmured as he began to leave.

"I'm not a _girl_ ," Cadet Uhura replied in fury. "You're _gross_ , you know that? Jumping out of the shadows and calling me _sexy_? What-"

"Cadet Uhura, I suggest you let him go peacefully," Spock urged, motioning for her to abandon her efforts.

" _Commander_ , he-"

Her teeth began chattering and she looked down at the ground. The fog of her breath cast a glow over her face.

"Did he injure you?"

" _No_ , but guys like that think they can say whatever they want, and when they say whatever they want for long enough, pretty soon, they start _doing_ whatever they want."

"And you imagine that by accosting him, you will radically alter his future behavior?"

"Wha- I don't- he's _so_ \- look, I don't want to get into a debate about sexism and harassment with you. I didn't need your help."

"I know you to be capable of defending yourself both verbally and physically: my only desire was to diffuse the situation as diplomatically as possible."

"Well, _thanks_ , I guess."

Her arms were crossed tightly across a small black garment that exposed her chest down to her sternum and much of her legs. He did not allow his eyes to linger.

"Might I inquire as to why you did not elect to wear warmer clothing if you intended to be out of doors on such a cold evening?"

"Um, it's a long and embarrassing story," she muttered through clenched teeth.

Spock removed his uniform coat and offered it to her. Her eyes grew wide and she took a step back. "I can't take your coat," she stammered. I'll be fine. I just need to find my friends and get back to the dorm."

"Though it is cold outside, you clearly require it more than I do," he insisted.

Her expression was full of apprehension, as if he were brandishing a weapon. "Can I ask you something, sir?"

"Certainly."

"Do you know how it _looks_ , offering me your coat because I'm cold?"

"It is the logical thing to do."

" _Logical_ ," she repeated slowly.

They stood for several seconds at an impasse, but she soon reached out her hand and took the coat by the collar. She slid her arms through the sleeves without making eye contact and then wrapped the front part of the coat tightly around herself.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"I was assigned to a pilot weekend courtesy patrol program to monitor local areas where altercations between cadets and the local populace have occurred," he explained. "If you will allow me to repeat my query, why are you without the necessary warm clothing?"

"Long story short: Brondon."

"What is a brondon?"

She began to smile. She was still shivering, and soon, she began to utter a sharp, barking laugh. The public transport shuttle pulled up to the curb twenty meters ahead.

"Do you have transportation back to campus?" he asked her.

"No, uh- I was going to ask if you might get in contact with the staff duty desk and see if they could send someone," she replied.

He noticed she looked at his face, but wasn't quite looking him in the eye. She never met his gaze, unless she was angry or questioning his authority.

"There are two transportation passes in the pocket of the coat you wear," he said. "One was Commander Rigelman's, but you are welcome to make use of it."

She reached her hands into his coat pockets and pulled out the two small disks, asking, "You're sure this is ok?"

"It belongs to the Academy and you are a cadet there," he explained. "I do not imagine the shuttle will wait long, so you should decide quickly."

Her eyes darted toward the small shuttle stopped at the curb and she nodded reluctantly, handing him one of the disks. He took care to avoid touching her hand as he accepted it, wishing to avoid the experience of ozh'esta with her again.

They made their way to the shuttle, but she was slow on her impractical footwear and was forced to amble along with a jerky gait. He noticed that the shoes' elevation of her heels displayed muscles in her legs, giving them a pleasing appearance, and he immediately looked forward toward the shuttle and pushed the memory of her long legs from his mind.

They boarded the shuttle bus, touched the disks to the activation pad to gain access, and then moved toward the back of the vehicle where there were open seats against the wall, facing inward into a central aisle. The shuttle was mostly full, and as they shuffled to the back, a middle-aged woman waved.

"I can move so you two can sit together," she smiled.

"Oh, that's ok," Cadet Uhura said, replying so quickly that her words slurred together into one.

"No, _no_ , it's _fine_. You two are so cute."

"We're not _together_ ," she said loudly, before lowering her voice to add more politely, "Thank you for your offer, but we're not together."

The woman winked and moved to a seat across the aisle anyway. Cadet Uhura's expression was unrecognizable. She slowly took her seat and Spock sat down next to her. She stared at the floor and their bodies swayed as the shuttle departed from the curb.

"You never did explain what a brondon was."

Cadet Uhura sat up and faced him. Her lips began to part into a small smile that extended through her cheeks and into her dark eyes. Her expression was beautiful, but so was she.

Illogically, he felt compelled to look away, and for a fraction of a second, he _did_. In that moment, he observed the middle-aged woman sitting across from them smiling and shaking her head. Humans were curious creatures indeed.


	6. Missteps

They stepped off the shuttle onto the wide walkway leading into the Academy campus. Nyota had shared awkward moments with Commander Spock before – the time when he helped treat her broken ribs on the _Dalton II_ came to mind – but that 15 minute shuttle ride definitely took the cake.

She was a bundle of embarrassment, wrapped in too-tiny clothing and swaddled in his coat. The coat smelled faintly of him: it reminded her a bit of cedar and rust and some other pleasant aroma she couldn't identify. She doubted he wore cologne, but she was curious about the scent all the same.

She hadn't _wanted_ to accept his coat. A man offering a woman his coat – it seemed like the worst romantic cliché imaginable, short of him maybe taking it off and laying it across a puddle so she could avoid getting her feet wet. There was _no_ romance between them, despite what Gaila or the busybody on the shuttle might think. So what if she took his coat? She could have sucked it up and handled being cold, but she'd decided to take him up on his offer as a means of covering herself.

After Gaila had convinced her to try on her dress and she saw how good she looked in it, she'd felt sexy and confident. Of course, she hadn't counted on running into her very professional, very _moral_ thesis advisor. Her confidence had abandoned her and now she felt like she might as well be wearing underwear. She couldn't help but notice that Spock wouldn't look directly at her.

She had a momentary daydream about the dress shrinking under the coat until it disappeared and wrapped the winter garment more tightly around her body. She was going to have to give it back to him any minute now and she prayed everything was covered and where it was supposed to be.

Spock began to slow and she matched his pace. "I believe one of these buildings must be your dormitory."

"Yeah, but I have to go by the staff duty desk for a lockout key card. My access card to my room is in my wallet, and my wallet… well, I told you the story."

She had managed to tell him about going out with Gaila and then getting separated from her, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him about Brondon. She was certain it was because Brondon was just too embarrassing and not because she didn't want Spock thinking she went out on lots of dates with random men.

Spock turned on his heel and continued through the small courtyard toward a larger building across the street that housed the faculty and their families, and was also the location of the central staff duty desk.

"I don't know why they can't just switch to voice activated control panels," she murmured.

"Such technology is practical on a starship with limited personnel, yet with so many individuals having access to the buildings, the informational security office determined voice-activated locking mechanisms would be ineffective."

"Oh," she mumbled. She couldn't deny it made sense.

As they drew closer to the multi-story faculty building, she realized the lights on the first floor were off. She didn't need to approach the main door: there was no one at the desk.

"Where are they?" she asked, looking to Spock.

"It is 0055 hours, therefore it seems likely the duty officer is doing security checks."

"Yeah, but where are the duty runners? There's supposed to be at least one person here 24 hours a day."

"I do not know," he replied, pulling out his communicator.

Nyota paced in front of the building in frustration. She had been a runner on staff duty numerous times. There was normally one officer and two or three cadets on duty, depending on the time of day. It was a tedious grind that involved cleaning the building and being bored at a desk for 12 hours, waiting for some incident or emergency to occur. She imagined it would be good practice for working at a hotel, since most of the work involved taking messages for various faculty members and helping cadets who were locked out of their rooms.

"I am unable to reach the appropriate personnel," Spock explained, closing his communicator. "However, I am in possession of a master key card."

He walked to the side of the building and swiped his card across the access panel by a door. The door slid open to reveal a side entryway with a bay of turbolifts. "Follow me."

She reluctantly trailed behind him, sensing the formation of a new dilemma. This was where Spock _lived_ : she couldn't just go into his quarters. But this was where the rest of the faculty lived too, and if anyone saw her hanging around in the turbolift lobby, that would look really… _strange_.

The door to the turbolift glided open and Spock boarded it, turned, and raised his right eyebrow. What did _that_ mean? Should she follow him or wait? She took a few steps forward, waiting for some indication of what he wanted her to do, and since he said nothing, she slowly entered the turbolift and stood beside him.

"Floor 19," Spock said.

The lift shot upwards and seconds later, deposited them into a wide hallway lined with suites. Faculty quarters were _nice_. He went left and she trailed behind him, and they stopped about halfway down the hall in front of a wide door. The placard next to it read: 1917A – Cmdr. Spock.

Now what?

It would have looked weird hanging around the turbolifts, but it would look ten times _weirder_ hanging around outside Commander Spock's quarters dressed like… _this._ He opened the door and she cruised through it without a second thought. She kept her head and eyes straight forward and walked to the back of the room. This wasn't a social call; it was strictly business. She didn't want to make things even more awkward by gushing over the size of his kitchen or the décor on the walls.

"Excuse me," he said, removing himself to the first room down a narrow hall.

Then and only then did she allow herself to glance around. Faculty quarters weren't just nice, they _very_ nice. This apartment was designed for families with children, and when she looked into the large mirror at the entrance to the hallway, she could see four separate doors in the reflection. Probably three bedrooms and a bathroom, with a private bath in the master suite. Rank clearly had its privileges.

She leaned back on the glass planning board and the screen illuminated. She jumped forward in surprise and started feeling her hands along the bottom edge for the switch to manually turn it off. She couldn't find it. She clenched her jaw. Apparently she couldn't even be left alone in a room for two minutes without messing something up.

She ran her fingers along the side edges and realized there was a bizarre mixture of Vuhlkansu and Standard text formed into a diagram that looked like a flow chart. She felt the weight of a miniature devil on her shoulder, urging her to read it. Then there was the immediate presence of her conscience telling her that would be a serious violation of Spock's privacy – not to mention how embarrassing it would be if he found her like this.

Her heart began racing and she searched more frantically for the button to turn it off, but temptation got the better of her when she caught the word "date."

It was part of a sentence that read, _"Was the term date used?"_

Her mouth began to feel very dry and her eyes didn't know where to look, but it didn't matter; she already knew what was written there.

_"Is there food? Is there alcohol? Did the other person obviously take a shower today?"_

Her eyes skimmed the vertically aligned Vuhlkansu text and she felt herself growing dizzy. By " _Do you know each other's families?"_ was a short comment that read, "Prospective mate?"

Worse still, next to " _Do you want to see this person naked?"_ were three lateral, bisected circles, which in Vuhlkansu was the equivalent of a question mark.

Did that mean he wasn't sure if wanted to see her _naked_ , or did it mean he didn't understand the question? She clapped her right hand over her mouth in disbelief as she felt along the top edge for the button to the planning board. Success at last.

The screen went dim and she whirled around. She could hear him moving around in the other room and tried to compose herself enough to look natural when he came back out, but she had a sneaking feeling that would be impossible. How had he come across Gaila's list?

 _Gaila_.

Her roommate had admitted to leaving the lab computer terminal on with their server conversation accessible and Spock had been turning it off when she went back.  _Gaila_. At this rate, Gaila would be lucky to survive their next encounter.

It occurred to Nyota that maybe she was being conceited – maybe it wasn't about her. Maybe it wasn't about _anyone_. Maybe he just thought the list was interesting and was curious about human dating practices. Then again, if he read the list, he probably read the rest of the conversation. What had she and Gaila talked about? _Oh God._

She gulped and noticed how aware she was of her hands. They were visibly shaking and she wanted more than anything to sit down and put her head between her knees. _No_ , she wanted to run out of the room and move to a far off planet to avoid ever seeing Commander Spock again.  _Too late._

Spock returned to main room, brandishing a yellow master access card. She could feel her cheeks ablaze with mortification and couldn't bring herself to look anywhere near his face.

"Are you ready to depart?"

" _Depart_?" she squeaked.

Spock's eyebrow right arched upward, and he replied, "To your dormitory?"

He wanted to walk her back to her room? "I could just take the access card and give it back to you Monday, or tomorrow, or I could even bring it _right_ back if you need me to."

"By regulation, I am unable to grant unauthorized personnel access to my master access key card," he explained.

She actually knew that and felt stupid for forgetting. When she worked as a runner on staff duty, the yellow access cards had to be signed out by the staff duty officer and their use by the cadets was carefully logged as a means of keeping an appropriate information trail. It made sense: she wouldn't want just anyone who happened to be on staff duty having free access to her room.

"Cadet Uhura?"

"Yeah, sure, let's go," she said, her voice so shrill that she sounded ten years younger.

Spock collected another black uniform coat from the hall closet and she noticed how perfectly, predictably, annoyingly organized it was. They left his quarters and made it to the turbolift without being seen, but when they emerged in the lobby, Lieutenant Akamatsu was waiting to take the lift up.

Nyota didn't know Holly Akamatsu on a personal level, but she knew she was in the computer science department and therefore probably worked closely with Spock. She didn't have to know her well to recognize and interpret the look of shock twisting across her face. Nyota wished for a nearby hole to magically appear so she could crawl in it and never come back out.

"Good evening," said Akamatsu. Her inflection was strange, like she was asking a question more than she was making a statement.

"I got locked out of my dorm and there's no one on staff duty," Nyota declared. "I ran into Commander Spock and he was nice enough to help me out with a master access card."

"Uh _huh_ ," Akamatsu said, looking from her to Spock.

Sure, it _looked_ bad, coming out of the faculty housing building with her advisor, dressed in clothing that was painfully revealing and wearing said advisor's coat. She wanted to break into a speech about all the unfortunate events that had led them to this moment in time, but sensed that continuing to explain the situation would only make things look worse.

"I have been unable to get in contact with Commander Figueroa," Spock explained. "I have just returned from the newly established courtesy patrol and was assisting Cadet Uhura in returning to campus."

Akamatsu's expression was difficult to read; Nyota wished there was a way to crack open her mind and see what was running through it. This did look _really_ bad and if she were in the lieutenant's shoes, she probably wouldn't believe it either. Except, this wasn't just _anyone_ : it was _Spock_. Everyone knew Vulcans couldn't lie.

"Yeah, uh, I was wondering why the lights were off at the front entrance," Akamatsu murmured. "Maybe they're out picking up everyone else on this new patrol shift and just got their messages crossed. It's only the first night, I guess, and it'll take a while to get the kinks worked out."

"Perhaps you could wait at the desk until someone returns," Spock suggested.

The look on her face implied there were many other things she would much rather do in the predawn hours of a chilly Saturday morning in January, but she glanced at the rank insignia on Spock's sleeves and nodded.

"I shall be back to file my log of the night's activities with the officer on duty once I have completed assisting Cadet Uhura," Spock added.

They set out for her dormitory without speaking a word to one another. Nyota wasn't even sure what to say about her night from hell, especially after the panic from being observed by Lieutenant Akamatsu started to fade and she started to remember Spock's planning board.

Why was he so interested in the checklist? Did his interest make him creepy or simply curious? Moreover, " _Do you want to see this person naked?"_ kept echoing through her mind.

She craned her neck to look away from Spock and observed the cracks in the pavement with more interest than was natural. She felt like there should be a special word for this kind of feeling, because things like "humiliation" and "awkwardness" didn't even begin to scratch the surface.

"What did you wish to discuss at special office hours?"

" _Huh_?" she replied without thinking.

"Yesterday morning you indicated you intended to be at my office at 1600 hours, but I was forced to cancel the appointment due to an unscheduled briefing."

Oh right. She'd meant to drop by his office earlier that afternoon to talk about getting his approval to schedule time in the short and mid-range scanner labs. That felt like a lifetime ago.

"I can just come by on Monday, if that's ok, because I can't remember off the top of my head," she replied.

"Very well."

The cool night air lapped at her bare legs and she pulled his coat around her torso more tightly. Talking was awkward, but silence was worse. They were quickly approaching her dormitory, but the tension made it seem like several more kilometers away.

They decided to break the silence simultaneously, as she asked, "Sir, can I ask you-" just as he said, "Cadet Uhura, if you will permit me-"

She laughed and said, "You go ahead."

"This morning when I offered the vase of flowers to you, I was later informed that such an offering might be considered a romantic gesture, and this was certainly not my intention."

"Oh- yeah- I didn't- it was- I didn't think- yeah. _I know_."

She cringed at her inability to form a coherent sentence. If it wasn't a "romantic gesture," then what _was_ it?"

"I was wondering why you even had them in the first place," she added.

"Commander Riegelman brought them from her mother's shop and placed them in a faculty common area, and Lieutenant Bautista is allergic, so Commander Riegelman insisted I take them."

That made _so_ much sense. She'd had Commander Riegelman as an instructor in her second year and the woman's office was always overflowing with flower arrangements. So Spock had zero romantic interest in her, according to him. According to his planning board however… " _Do you want to see this person naked?"_ Question mark.

 _No_. This was crazy. There was no reason would Spock would be interested in her. She certainly wasn't interested in him, and hadn't _ever_ thought about him that way until stupid Gaila and her stupid checklist ruined everything.

Her thoughts continued to run in circles as they arrived at the stairs to the south entrance to her building. They climbed together without speaking, and when they reached the door, Spock swiped the master access card across the panel. There was an audible click of the door, and when she reached for the handle to pull it open, she was surprised to find his hand was already there.

It took a fraction of a second for the sensation to travel from her fingertips to her brain and register what was happening, but as her fingers glided over the back of his hand and down the side of his index finger, she experienced a euphoric, tickling feeling through her hand and into her consciousness.

It startled her, but the sensation was so pleasant she was slower to pull away than she probably should have been, but so was _he_. In reality, the contact only lasted approximately two seconds, but what a two seconds they had been.

" _Sorry_ ," she mumbled. "I should pay closer attention."

Spock said nothing, and since she couldn't bring herself to look at him, she had no idea what he was thinking. What had just happened?

The memory of a screwdriver flashed through her mind. This wasn't the first time this had happened.

She recalled being stranded with him on the planetoid several months earlier. They had been working together to repair a bone knitter and had reached for a screwdriver at the same time, and her hands had awkwardly caressed his knuckles. She remembered how negatively he'd reacted; he'd pulled his hand back like she'd bitten him, explaining, "Vulcans did not prefer to be touched." He hadn't seemed to mind just now. But neither had _she_ , which was weird.

They took the stairs to her room on the third floor and the echoes of her heels off the hard surfaces was almost deafening in the relative silence growing between them. An inexplicable apprehension started to course through her and as she thought of Gaila's checklist and Spock's planning board, and all she felt was confusion. They arrived at the door to her room and she caught her breath.

"This is me," she said, pointing at the door. "My room." _Obviously_.

She started to pull off the coat she'd borrowed from him and when he turned to the access panel by her door, she quickly tried to adjust the fit of the dress to cover more of her chest. She heard the door click but hesitated to push it open after what had happened downstairs.

"Um, I just wanted to say thank you for everything," she said, holding out the coat.

He took it, draped it over his arm, and replied, "You are welcome."

She forced herself to smile and look at him in an attempt to act casually, and as she anticipated, he did not return her expression. What she _hadn't_ been prepared for was the way he was looking at her. His face was as relaxed and unassuming as it always was, but there was an intensity in his eyes that was unsettling. Fear, maybe? Discomfort? _No_ , it was something else. She realized she was holding her breath and slowly exhaled.

"Have a good night, commander," she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "I'll see you Monday."

She turned and stretched out her arms in a fluid motion to push her door open, and then awkwardly ran into it; they had been standing there so long the automatic locks had reengaged.

She took a step back and accidentally drove the spike of her left stiletto heel right onto the top of his right foot. He uttered a barely audible grunt and she leapt forward to keep herself from bearing more weight on his foot, but began to stumble as the toe of her left foot clipped the heel of her right.

She felt his hand grip her left bicep to steady her, but he overcorrected, and she started to fall backwards onto him. He was _strong_. She pivoted on her heel to try and catch herself and ended up face planting into his chest.

Ugh, I'm _so_ clumsy- I'm sorry- this is-" she stammered.

She stood upright, but Spock didn't immediately let go. Their eyes met and she noticed his expression had intensified. Not only that, but he was holding his breath. They remained locked at an impasse for several more seconds, but it might as well have been _hours_. She took a deep breath, and only then did she realize she'd been holding her breath again too.

"This- this- _I_ -"

A loud bang resonated through the quiet hallway and she took a step back and looked over her shoulder to see a feminine figure strutting toward them.

"Where have you b-" Gaila's words failed her, and Nyota didn't have to guess why. The clicking of her shoes grew louder, and Nyota turned back to Spock and tried to look calm.

"Oh _, hello_ , Commander Spock," Gaila finished.

"Cadet Gaila," Spock said with a slight nod, pulling his hands behind his back as he so often did.

Gaila's eyes danced back and forth between them and she gave Spock a nervous smile.

"You _left_ me," Nyota growled, noticing Gaila was wearing her coat.

"Lex stepped outside to smoke his pipe and then Brondon wanted to go to the club next door. He said he would wait for you, but then neither of you showed up," Gaila whined. "We went looking for you, but I figured you just caught a cab back to the dorm."

"How was I going to do _that_ when _you_ had my wallet?"

"I should leave," Spock said.

"Yeah," Nyota mumbled. "And thank you again, Commander Spock."

"Certainly," he replied with a tiny bow of his head, before moving past them to walk down the long hallway to the stairs.

She watched him leave but could feel Gaila's eyes almost boring a hole through her. When the door to the stairwell shut behind him, Gaila said, "What was _that_?"

"No. Oh _no_. What was _Brondon_? I can't believe you left me!"

"I didn't know where you went!"

"Maybe you might have heard me say I was going to the restroom if Lex's tongue hadn't been halfway in your _ear_."

Gaila opened the door to the room and the bickering continued until Gaila retreated into the bathroom to take a shower to avoid their awkward confrontation.

Nyota flopped down on her bed and glared at the ceiling. She had never been so angry with her roommate. First _Brondon_ , then abandoning her, and then interrupting...

Her thoughts froze, and her head slowly turned to look at the vase of purple chrysanthemums on her nightstand.


	7. He Knows that She Knows that He Knows

Spock walked along the sidewalk at a languid pace, deep in private reflection about the night's events. The icy air stung his face and burned his lungs, but he moved deliberately to gather his discipline. The top of his foot ached where the slender heel of her impractical shoe had landed.

Impulsiveness demonstrated a failure to think and an inability to control oneself; therefore, it was illogical. He had not acted impulsively, but he had _wanted_ to. For a fleeting instant, he had wanted to draw her closer and… _no_.

He attempted to suppress the memory, but it was replaced with the brief recollection of the ozh'esta they experienced when he'd opened the door for her. Their fingers had touched – they had touched on two previous occasions – but _this_ time, she'd seemed to perceive the deeper, more intimate significance of the gesture.

He had wanted to take her hands and kiss her. Gaila's interruption had been fortunate. Spock approached the faculty building and could see the light shining from the first floor lobby and Lieutenant Akamatsu speaking a stocky female cadet. The door automatically slid open on his approach.

"No excuse, Cadet DeWitt."

"Aye, ma'am."

Spock moved around the corner of the duty desk, draped the coat over the back of the chair, and took a seat to begin a log of the night's events. He paused his recording when Lieutenant Nowak, the duty officer of the night, strolled through the door with an air of irritation.

"You're dismissed, cadet," Lieutenant Akamatsu said to the young woman. "Go back to sweeping the turbolift lobby."

"Aye, Ma'am."

The moment the cadet was out of earshot, Akamatsu growled, "Where have _you_ been?"

"Well, let's see," Nowak responded tersely. "Two drunken cadets out in Bernal Heights, a cadet with alcohol poisoning out in Noe Valley, four lockouts, a fist fight on the basketball court, Commander Figueroa calling me every five minutes to ask about this new courtesy patrol, oh, and there was a _fire_ over in J dormitory. This has been the night from _hell_ , so back off, Holly."

They began to bicker, and it was interfering with Spock's recording of his duty log. He glanced over and said, "Perhaps you could settle your dispute more quietly."

"Sorry, sir," they mumbled in discordant unison, and converted to hushed arguing through clenched teeth.

The two other staff duty runners returned out of breath and were immediately sent to help the female cadet to sweep the turbolift lobby, despite the fact there was only one broom in the janitorial closet. Spock completed his log and reached for the coat on the chair to remove the public transport passes. He set the circular disks on the desk and waited for a natural break in the heated discussion between the two lieutenants. Humans possessed uniquely complex temperaments.

"Pardon me," Spock finally interrupted. "I wish to return the transport passes and retire for the night. Perhaps it is time you accept that yours is a conflict not destined for resolution."

"Yes. _Sorry_ , sir," Nowak said stiffly, picking up the disks and reading the numbers briefly before returning them to a box by the desk. "Have a good night, Commander Spock."

He collected the coat on the chair and left the front desk. The three duty runners were sitting on a bench in the turbolift lobby and leapt to their feet as he emerged through the door. They were too slow to give the appearance of productivity, but he could not fault them for being idle when they had been assigned to such a fruitless task.

He pressed the central button to the turbolift bank without saying a word. The left-hand door immediately slid open and he stepped inside, but before the door could close, Akamatsu joined him.

"Floor 19," he said.

"Computer, halt turbolift," Akamatsu said, delaying his progress.

He raised his eyebrow in curiosity and waited for an explanation.

"I just wanted to say sorry for my unprofessional argument with Christo- um, Lieutenant Nowak."

He noted her absentminded use of Lieutenant Nowak's given name. They had both been his subordinates up until a month ago when Nowak had requested a lateral transfer to the information security department. Gossip was an irrational human inclination, but since he worked in close proximity to many humans, he often fell party to it, however involuntarily.

Christopher Nowak and Holly Akamatsu had been romantically involved for several months before Nowak's fidelity waned, or so Lieutenant Bautista theorized, according to the testimony of some other source that had sworn her to secrecy.

"So… I'm _sorry_ ," Akamatsu added, turning to face the door.

"It is illogical to apologize to me for words directed at Lieutenant Nowak," Spock replied. "Floor nine-"

"Computer, halt turbolift," Akamatsu interrupted.

"Is there some purpose to this exercise?"

"I also wanted to talk to you about… well, you know, _earlier_."

"To what do you refer?"

"Cadet Uhura."

"Specify."

"Well, it looked like she was coming down from your quarters."

"She was. As I explained, the staff duty desk was unoccupied, her wallet was presumed stolen, and I was issued a master key card."

"She could have waited outside."

"The temperature outside is below freezing and she was not dressed appropriately for the weather."

"In the lobby then."

"I perceive that you are implying that it was inappropriate to allow her into my quarters."

She stared at him. Her mouth hung open widely enough for him to observe the bottom row of her teeth.

"Well, it looks bad," she stammered. "Didn't you see how she was dressed?"

Of course he had.

"I believe her manner of dress is common among human females during outings on weekend evenings. I fail to understand how that is related to my decision to briefly allow her into my quarters."

"Well, she's young, and she's _pretty_ , and people might _assume_ …"

"People are often inclined to assume many things that have no foundational basis in logic," he countered. "Do you suggest I invited her to my quarters with impure intentions toward her?"

" _No_ ," Akamatsu retorted with an unusual amount of vehemence. "Oh _God_ no. After all, you're _you_ , you know?"

It was perplexing how often humans resorted to cryptic language as a means of deflecting discomfort during confrontations. Was Akamatsu implying he was incapable of appreciating _any_ member of the opposite sex, or was she simply proposing he was too moral to use deception as a means of attracting a mate?

"Perhaps you could speak more plainly," he suggested.

"I'm sure dating rules on Vulcan are different, or whatever you have that passes for dating. _Do you date_? Ugh, that's an horrible question. Never mind. Anyway, I'm only trying to say that I know you're a good guy, but taking a scantily dressed cadet up to your quarters looks… _bad_. You just have to think about these things. I mean, aren't you her thesis advisor?"

"I am," he replied. "And wasn't Lieutenant Nowak your superior less than a month ago?"

Her cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet and she narrowed her eyes. "That's _different_. We weren't- it wasn't supposed to be anything serious- _who told you we dated_?"

He hadn't specifically mentioned her tryst with Nowak, but she'd illogically confessed all the same. Defensiveness seemed to be a significant hindrance to rational behavior.

"I am merely attempting to understand your personal standards of propriety," he explained.

"Look, I don't care what you do," she snapped. "As you know, the Academy doesn't have a strict policy about dating between students and faculty, but we did, people would break it all the time. Bottom line is, I just wouldn't go around putting it on display, you know?"

"Have I caused some offense?" he asked, curious about the shift in her tone.

" _No_ ," she barked. "Floor 12."

The turbolift lurched upward and deposited her onto the appropriate floor. He bid her good night and she grunted in reply before plodding out of the lift. A minute later, he entered his own quarters and stopped at the entry closet to hang his coat.

It smelled like her – a curious concoction of coconut, spearmint, and another scent he could not readily identify. He did not allow himself to linger on the thought. He quickly draped the coat over a hanger and placed it on the bar in the closet. He did the same with the coat he was wearing and shut the closet door.

Lieutenant Akamatsu had given him much on which to reflect. He considered each of her assertions in turn.

" _It looks weird_."

" _Didn't you see how she was dressed_?"

" _After all, you're_ you _, you know_?"

" _You just have to think about these things_."

 " _The Academy doesn't have a strict policy about dating between students and faculty, but we did, people would break it all the time_."

He knew his human counterparts were inclined to gossip, regardless of whether the source of their discussion had any basis in truth. His purpose for constructing Gaila's list into a functional flowchart was intended to help him avoid the appearance of impropriety, but it posed a unique challenge.

Humans seemed to deem all manner of things as inappropriate based on illogical assumptions and preconstructed social conventions with which he was poorly acquainted. In order to anticipate what people might perceive as inappropriate, he would have to think as they did - _illogically_. It would be prudent to review and revise Gaila's criteria in light of the night's events.

Before he began, he checked his messages. He skimmed through a handful from students petitioning for reconsideration of their scores on a recent exam and a dozen automatic alerts from the Academy, but one message stood out. It was from his mother.

_Spock,_

_I'll be in San Francisco in two weeks for a weekend linguistics conference. It would be nice to see you. Maybe we could have dinner together on the 13th. Miss you._

_Amanda_

He had seen his mother a total of three times in the last eight years. His father hadn't approved of his decision to join Starfleet, and his act of rebellion had driven a silent wedge between his father and himself. Spock had his path, and Sarek had his.

He took a seat at his desk to compose a swift reply.

_Mother,_

_I await your visit. The 13_ _th_ _is acceptable._

_Spock_

He returned his attentions to the logical assembly of Gaila's dating checklist. He approached his planning board and touched the smooth surface with his fingertips. Nothing happened.

He made a second attempt, pressing harder that time, and still nothing. He began to suspect the board was malfunctioning. It was programmed to activate by touch and he had never manually turned it off. He ran his hand along the top edge of the board and found the toggle switch and the screen flickered to life.

There was only one logical conclusion: Cadet Uhura had powered it down. She had been standing near the board earlier and if she had leaned against it, it was likely that she'd activated it. It was therefore reasonable to assume she had read at least some of the contents before finding the inconspicuous toggle switch positioned atop the board.  _Regrettable_.

How to proceed? There was no possible method for retracting the information – one could not _un_ know a thing. It was the same dilemma he'd encountered when he inadvertently discovered Gaila's checklist.

He scribbled several shorthand notes concerning his conversations with Commander Riegelman and Lieutenant Akamatsu on the board for later inclusion in his diagram. Two points of interest held his attention longest: " _You're just so good - no real flaws_ " and " _Academy_ _dating policy - people would break it all the time_."

He tapped the screen twice to dim it and watched as it slowly faded to reveal the off-white paint of the wall behind it. He spent the rest of the weekend in solemn meditation, breaking only for brief periods for water and rest.

By Monday, he felt prepared to meet with Cadet Uhura. She planned to be at his 0800 office hours, and so few students came by his office early in the morning. It had taken hours of intensive contemplation, but he had decided to speak with her about the nature of their relationship.

He wasn't certain of the extent of his affection for her, since he had never considered any female at length until Cadet Uhura, but he sensed it would be wise to gain a better understanding of her interest in him prior to admitting his interest in her. There was a significant likelihood she would reject him – the probability was impossible to calculate due to extreme variability in human personalities – but honesty was preferable to denial, as it was a more logical course of action.

No matter the outcome, she would need to seek another advisor, which was unfortunate, because she was a particularly talented student.

He chose to avoid the faculty break room and arrived early in his office. He began to respond to the messages he'd neglected over the weekend, but remained mindful of the time. 0800 hours came and went, and by 0815, he began to question whether she still planned to arrive. Finally at 0824, she breezed through the doorway clutching a water bottle and her Academy-issued PADD.

Her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing heavily, but she offered a thin smile and said, "I'm sorry I'm later than usual. I overslept."

"You did not set a firm time to meet, and my office hours do not conclude for another 36 minutes," he reminded her.

"Yeah, I know, but I normally come first thing, so I'm sorry if I kept you waiting."

" _No_ ," he said in a quieter tone of voice than he was accustomed. "I was not waiting. There is a matter I wish to discuss with you."

"Oh, well I have stuff to talk about too," she said, holding up her PADD.

He noticed a very subtle shift in the pitch of her voice and the pacing of her speech.

"That was logical to assume, given your presence," he explained.

"Is that sarcasm?" she laughed.

"No, it is a simple statement of fact."

She shook her head and looked intently at her PADD. She wouldn't make eye contact with him.

"What did you wish to speak with me about?" he asked.

"First thing, I was thinking over some of the corrections you were wanting to make, and I just disagree with them," she admitted.

"Specify."

"I don't think I can make a lot of the corrections you want and still have it make sense. I've _tried_."

"There is a difference between a correction and a suggestion."

"I know _that_. I just feel like if I make all the changes you want, my paper isn't going to be _mine_ anymore."

"In your proposal, your insights on distinguishing patterns within harmonic frequencies was innovative," he explained. "Yet much of your introduction is derivative, and you are relying too heavily on existing research. Therefore, as it stands, your current draft is not completely yours."

Their eyes finally met, and he could easily discern hers were full of anger.

"You're my advisor," she said in a loud, low tone. "I want your _advice_ , not your insults."

"My remark was not intended as an insult. Perhaps you should review your proposal as a method of refocusing your efforts."

"Well, _sir_ , maybe you could help me with that," she said, making no obvious effort to hide the disdain in her voice.

"That is why I wished to speak with you," he explained. "I do not believe I can act as your advisor any longer."

Her visible fury faded into confusion. "But- _why_? Look, ok, I know sometimes I let my attitude get carried away and I probably shouldn't have snapped at you just now. I'm sorry. Please don't give up on me." 

"I do not feel it is appropriate to continue to function as your advisor."

"Is this because of the other night?" she asked, her voice faint and shaking. Her complexion began to exhibit a slightly ashen color and the corners of her mouth drooped downward in abject shock.

"The situation is complex," he explained.

He was momentarily confounded by his inability to relate to her the things he'd spent much of the weekend meditating upon. He crossed his arms and took a step toward her.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "For whatever I did, I'm _sorry_."

"You have nothing for which to apologize. Cadet Uhura, I wish to tell you that I-"

There was a loud knock at the door that disturbed his focus.

"Commander Spock? It's Cadet Weber. I wanted to talk to you about last Thursday's exam."

"Kindly return in 15 minutes," he ordered through the door.

"I have a class that starts at 0900," Weber pleaded. "I just had two questions. I'll be quick!"

"It's _fine_ ," she interjected. "I'll just go."

"Please, allow me to finish," he replied.

"You don't have to. I already know what you're going to say. You want to tell me that I'm a good student but blah blah blah. _Reasons_. It doesn't really matter."

She grabbed her water bottle from his desk and ripped the door open, and in her haste to leave, she bumped into Weber.

"Uh, sorry," Weber grinned.

She didn't acknowledge Weber's apology, but continued along the corridor with an awkward, stomping gait. That had not gone as planned.

Furthermore, he noted Cadet Weber turned to watch her leave, his eyes trained on the hemline of her short uniform skirt. Spock sensed the flash of an unfamiliar sensation, and though he had no experience with it, he understood from context what it must be. He forced himself to subdue that particularly distasteful emotion and motioned for Weber to enter his office.

Jealousy was _not_ logical, but in the Vulcan custom, there was little logic in choosing a mate.


	8. A Lack of Communication

The day from hell – that was the only way to describe it.

Nyota trudged up the stairs to her room, lost in thought. She still smelled faintly of the tomato soup she'd dumped down the front of her uniform at lunch. That might not have been so bad, but she'd spent twenty minutes in the bathroom trying to rinse it out, which made her late for her Advanced Electrodynamics class, where she discovered everyone deeply engaged in an exam – an exam she'd completely forgotten to study for. Oh, and her thesis advisor had quit on her. So there was _that._

She swiped her access card in the door and shuffled into the room. She wanted to put on sweatpants and hate the world from the comfort of her bed, but she had too much to do to indulge in self-pity.

"You're back early!" Gaila called in a singsong voice from her post at the desk in the corner.

Her roommate was _studying_. It was now the day from hell that had frozen over.

"Yeah," Nyota croaked, flopping down on her bed without removing her bag from her back. "I'm surprised to see _you_ here."

"Yeah, I tanked Commander Spock's test on Thursday so now I'm in panic mode. I don't suppose you could talk to him for me, you know, since you're-"

"Since I'm _what_?" she growled.

Her roommate seemed to intuit the dangerous shift in her tone and mumbled something unintelligible to herself. It had been a tense weekend after the Brondon fiasco and Gaila was still understandably walking around on eggshells in Nyota's presence.

Nyota rolled over to face the wall and found herself confronted with the purple chrysanthemums. They'd drooped a bit over the past few days and needed water, but Nyota needed them _gone_. She sat upright, seized the vase, and stalked into the bathroom.

She wanted to throw the whole damn thing into the trash compactor in the wall, but her moment of insanity passed. She set the arrangement down on the alloy counter hard enough for the vase to make an audible "clink" and leaned forward to gaze at the innocuous blossoms, trying to piece everything together.

_His flowers. His coat. His kindness. His planning board. His hand on the door handle. His hand on her arm. His face in the hallway outside her room._

She leaned forward and breathed deeply to experience the sweet aroma of the chrysanthemums. She had been staring at these flowers when she'd come to the realization that she liked Commander Spock. _Liked_ him.

Then she spent the rest of her weekend trying to analyze it – it was probably just a harmless little crush. These things happened all the time, but it didn't have to _mean_ anything. But each time she reached the point of being able to laugh and dismiss it, she would catch sight of the flowers and find herself back at square one.

He probably didn't like _her_. There _was_ the planning board, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. It was more embarrassing knowing he knew about Gaila's list. She'd tried to review the message conversation, but it had been cleared from the servers. She couldn't remember the exact details, but even back then Gaila had accused her of liking Commander Spock.

So Gaila had been right all along. Damn Orion intuition. So she liked him, so what? Commander Spock, her _advisor_. The Vulcan with the painful haircut and a personality drier than toast – at least on the _surface_.

When she _really_ thought about it, it wasn't _so_ crazy. They'd survived tense hours in close quarters after a shuttle crash, they spent a lot of time together working on her thesis, he was intelligent, he was interesting, and his eyes were… it didn't matter what his eyes were. He didn't want to be her advisor anymore.

He said the situation was complex – whatever _that_ meant. It was "inappropriate to continue as her advisor." Inappropriate according to _whom_?

It had been childish, not giving him a chance to explain. The mature, professional part of her knew she needed to sit down and have a serious conversation with him, but there were tiny knots of insecurity and rejection that made talking with him any time soon feel impossible. She realized she was shaking and gripping the counter so tightly her hands were hurting. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and she hated herself for the moment of weakness. She would just have to find another advisor. _Big deal._

She took a series of deep breaths to quell the urge to cry and strolled out of the bathroom. She had studying to do and moping around about the opposite sex was a waste of time.

"Did you just take flowers to the bathroom with you?" Gaila laughed.

"I thought they'd look nice in there," Nyota said, forcing a fake smile onto her face. "I didn't want them anyway."

"I thought you said your mom gave them to you."

"Oh, right, she _did_ , but- you know."

" _Ok_ …"

Nyota sat down at her desk, grateful it faced the opposite wall and she could avoid making eye contact with her brilliantly perceptive roommate. She tapped the screen of her computer terminal and began to check her messages, but was disappointed to find none.

It would be been nice if Spock could have just summed up the situation in a short, tidy, _logical_ message to avoid any further discomfort. Unfortunately, discomfort didn't seem to be in the Vulcan vocabulary, so she was going to have to go down to his office at some point and hash things out. Why did things have to go and get so damn awkward?

She opened her electrodynamics notes but didn't even make it through the first sentence. Even though her course load was beginning to feel overwhelming, there was no point in trying to study, not when her mind was a jumble. She quickly changed out of her uniform into a pair of jeans and a light sweater, grabbed her coat and her wallet, and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Gaila called.

" _Out_ ," she replied, closing the door behind her before her roommate could ask for specifics.

She wandered down the stairs and into the cool evening. The streetlights came on just as she made it to the sidewalk. She paused for a pair of runners to go by and then set off down the path, unsure where she was going, and unsure what she was really feeling.

 _Rejected_ was a word that summed it up quite nicely. The professional rejection was bad enough, but his refusal to continue as her advisor felt _personal_. She had gotten to know him so well over the last few weeks because talking to him felt _natural_. Between his breadth of knowledge, her varied interests, and their mutual insatiable curiosity, they'd discussed everything from Japanese folk art to Vulcan board games – which reminded her, he had agreed to teach her how to play kal-toh. So much for that _now._

It just didn't make any sense. Things had been going so well and now things weren't going at all. A sudden displacement of air and sound of feet slapping the pavement caused her to jump and instinctively lean to the right as a runner breezed past her.

"Oh _hey_! So sorry," he said, turning and waving in apology before nearly tripping backwards over his own feet.

"It's fine," she mumbled, keeping her arms crossed tightly across her chest and offering a thin smile of acceptance.

"Hey, didn't uh- didn't I see you in Commander Spock's office this morning?"

He pulled the hood of his jacket down and flashed her a dazzling smile with teeth so white and straight they were almost annoying. She looked more closely at the man. He was more of a boy on the cusp of manhood, really. He had chocolate hair and skin the color of honey mounted on a tall, wiry frame. He was vaguely familiar to her, probably an acquaintance of an acquaintance, but he was definitely the person who had interrupted her conversation with Commander Spock. She wasn't sure whether she should thank him or curse him.

"Yeah, I think so. Weber, right?"

"Yeah, and you're Nyota Uhura."

Was he trying to be a creepy stalker, or was it natural for him?

"Sorry, I don't know if I caught your first name," she admitted, trying to be polite.

"Jeremy," he said, extending his right hand.

She returned his handshake and said, "I'm sorry I bumped into you this morning. It was… _rude_."

"Well, we kind of bumped into each other," he shrugged. "Wanna have a do-over?"

" _Oh_?" she retorted, trying to keep her eye rolling to an appropriate minimum.

"Coffee."

"I don't drink coffee."

"Tea? Hot chocolate?"

She frowned. Hot chocolate. Spock had gotten her hot chocolate.

"I'm pretty busy," she explained, mustering her reserves of courtesy.

"You don't look busy right now."

"Are you being friendly or is this an interrogation?" she replied, half joking, half serious.

"Just being friendly to the prettiest woman I've seen all day."

_Subtle._

Well, you look pretty busy," she said, pointing to him and his running attire.

" _This_?" he replied, pulling at his jacket. "I was only out for a light jog."

She nodded and looked over his shoulder anxiously, trying to think of a gracious way to extricate herself from the conversation.

"Look, I'll buy. I hear you're pretty talented, and I could use a brain to pick. I'm in communications also."

"Who told you I was talented?"

"I thought it was common knowledge."

 _So subtle_.

"Come on, give me a chance. Just one hot beverage. If you decide I'm a total loser, you don't ever have to talk to me again.

She locked eyes with him, scanning for any hint of weirdness or deception. His face was open, honest, and not too hard to look at. He was certainly no Brondon. She also hadn't been out in _ages_ , not counting her little foray with Gaila on Friday. She'd had a lot of fun in her first and second years at the Academy until she'd started getting competitive about finishing in the top of the class. Gaila said it shouldn't matter so much – no one was going to care what her grades were out in the fleet. She knew Gaila was right, but if she wanted to get a good assignment, she'd need good grades.

"Well?" he asked.

"When?"

"Right now is good for me?"

"You're all sweaty."

Of course, she had been sweaty too, that evening in the coffee shop with Spock, and Spock hadn't seemed to mind. He sniffed under both armpits and grinned, claiming, "Smells like victory. I wear deodorant, I promise!"

She couldn't help but laugh at his persistence. Jeremy Weber was certainly a charmer. Maybe she could let him grow on her. It occurred to her that she hadn't really thought much of Commander Spock before the incident with the _Dalton II_. Maybe all Jeremy needed was a chance.

She felt a painful longing in her gut at the thought of her former thesis advisor and hated herself for it. She wasn't in _love_ with Spock or anything: it was just a tiny, innocent crush, certainly nothing to dwell on or write home about. She'd probably be over it in a few days, and maybe Jeremy Weber was the person to help her with that.

"What's it going to take?" he said, putting both hands over his heart. "Do I have to get down on my knees and beg?"

"Eeew, _no_ ," she smirked. "Ugh, fine. _One_ hot beverage. And if you do turn out to be a total loser, I'll drop you faster than a mother Gorn drops the runt of the litter."

He laughed and replied, "I like honesty, and a lady with a good sense of humor."

" _Yeah_."

"Well, there's a little coffee shop right up here on the other side of the street from campus, if you want, we could-"

" _No_ ," she interrupted. "Not there." That was the coffee shop she'd gone to with Spock.

"Bad experience?" Jeremy asked.

"The woman who works there... the service isn't great."

"Well, I tell you what then, there's a diner about ten blocks up, and since you said you don't drink coffee, maybe dinner would be ok?"

"Fine," she agreed.

They set out at a brisk walk along the running trail, and though Nyota found he was extremely likable, she didn't _like_ him. Not yet anyway. He was funny, intelligent, extremely good-looking, and another fellow linguaphile. Though they were the same age, he was a year behind her at the Academy, a consequence of taking a year off after secondary school to volunteer to help with an interplanetary children's charity. Like her, he was even a vegetarian.

She should have been impressed, and she _was_ , but her heart just wasn't in their impromptu date. He was perceptive enough to sense things were off, and as the waitress delivered their veggie wraps he asked, "Are you ok? You seem… _upset_. I hope I didn't come off as too strong, or say something that offended you."

"Well, you did come off pretty strong," she admitted. "But it's not you. It's me. I'm just going through some stuff with my thesis and it has my mind rattled."

"Commander Spock is your thesis advisor, right?"

"Yes- no. Sort of? It's complicated."

"I can't believe you asked him to help you with your thesis. The man is brilliant, but he can be a such an arrogant ass."

"Don't talk about him that way," she snapped.

The mood shifted, and Jeremy Weber instinctively understood he'd made a serious misstep. "I just meant… he can be _tough_ sometimes," he clarified.

"He can be a lot of things, but he's a good Starfleet officer, and a good person. He saved my life."

"Yeah, I heard all about that. You got stuck out in the Briar Patch dodging a bunch of Nausicaans. Anthony Nemechek was my friend, actually. He was my first year mentor for my lower level engineering classes."

"Oh. I'm _so_ sorry," she breathed, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

Anthony Nemechek had been killed during their training mission on the _Dalton II_ and she'd stayed up late into the night on the _Pegasus_ with Commander Spock after they'd been rescued, trying to help him write a letter home to Nemechek's family.

"That was the first time I remember seeing you," he continued. "I saw you at his memorial service, and the week after that, at your award ceremony."

A burning shame crept through her. She, Chekov, Sulu, and Spock had been given commendations for their role in apprehending the Nausicaan pirates, and all Nemechek got was a ticket to an early grave.

"Sorry to bring the mood down," he mumbled, digging into his food.

"No, _I'm_ sorry," she argued. "I started it. How's your wrap?"

"Good," he smiled. "Yours?"

"Good."

They made peace and spent the rest of their meal in typical getting-to-know-you idle chitchat. He'd recently broken up with his girlfriend, Amy Nguyen but the two of them remained friends. He enjoyed spending his time in the outdoors, hiking and skiing and surfing. Jeremy Weber was a great guy, and she _wanted_ to be attracted to him. Like Spock, he was easy to talk to and had a wide array of interests, but unlike Spock… _well, he just wasn't Spock_.

They walked back to the dormitories together, chatting about her thesis and arguing over the feasibility of creating a subroutine to distinguish fundamental frequencies. He stopped at the building next to hers, pointed over his shoulder and said, "This is my stop."

"I had a good time tonight," she said. It wasn't a lie; he wasn't the _worst_ company.

"Then maybe you could give it another shot? Treat me like a middle draft Gorn pup and not the runt?"

Lack of feelings aside, he did have a wonderful sense of humor and she couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm really busy with studying, but Valentine's Day is coming up, and maybe you'd like to go to dinner on that Saturday? Like, a _real_ date?"

She wanted to say no, but she also wanted to get out of whatever rut she was quickly sinking into. Also, the thought of being alone on Valentine's Day wasn't appealing, and Jeremy was a chance to avoid that. Besides, what was Gaila was always saying? He didn't have to be Mr. Right, but he could be Mr. Right _Now_?

"I'm pretty busy too," she added. "But there's a xenolinguistics conference that weekend that I planned on going to. Maybe you'd like to come to that?"

"I actually have plans earlier in the day too. I'm going snowshoeing through the Alaskan wilderness. I would cancel but I made these plans months ago. You're welcome to come." He grinned playfully and Nyota couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

"No, I think I'm good," she laughed. 

"Well, it's not everyone's cup of tea," he replied. "But I'll definitely be back by early afternoon and would still love to take you to dinner."

Nyota crossed her arms and sighed. "Then it's a date."

"Great," he grinned. "I'll look for a place and message you the details."

"Ok."

Her instincts began to warn her of something and she soon recognized the problem. Jeremy was shuffling closer to her, and she had seconds to figure out how this exchange was going to go. Kiss? Hug? Hearty handshake?

She twisted her body clumsily to catch him in a sideways hug and turned her face away from him. His face seemed to be turning too, and his lips caught her right on the jaw. She pulled away quickly, feeling the blood rush through her cheeks.

"I- I'm sorry, you seem-" Jeremy stammered.

"No, it's _me_. I have so much on my mind tonight. Thank you so much for dinner and conversation. I really am looking forward to seeing you again." It wasn't exactly a lie so much as it was an embellished truth.

"Yeah," he said, ruffling his hair.

She felt awful. His face clearly showed rejection and she knew from very recent experience what that was like. He began to walk up the stairs to his building. She should have just kissed him. It wouldn't have been the worst thing in the world. "Jeremy, I mean it: you're an amazing guy. I'll see you for dinner."

He smiled, nodded, and entered the building. She lumbered in the direction of her own building, shuffling her feet and staring at the ground. Life was complicated.

She looked up and noticed it was about to get even more complicated. Commander Spock was ten meters ahead of her and walking away from her dorm in the direction of the faculty quarters.

Half of her wanted to chase him down, and the other half wanted to run and hide. Had he seen her and Jeremy together? Surely he didn't think… no, who cared what he thought? _She did_ , actually.

She knew she couldn't avoid him forever, so against her better judgment she called his name, and he swiftly turned on his heel to face her. His face was unreadable, set firmly in a way she'd never seen before.

"Sir- _hi_ ," she said.

"Good evening, Cadet Uhura."

"I wanted to apologize for not giving you the chance to talk earlier when we were in your office."

"I had come to speak with you about it-" His sentence stopped abruptly in a way that was completely out of character, but he made no attempt to finish it.

"I guess I just want to know _why_. Why don't you want to be my advisor anymore?"

He was silent for several seconds, but finally said, "You are very talented, Cadet Uhura. I feel you would be better suited to the guidance of someone more familiar with your field of study."

"You have qualifications in the general sciences and after working with you on the _Dalton_ , you're definitely capable, so that's not it."

"I have already spoken with Lieutenant Bautista and she is willing to work with you on your thesis."

Nyota greatly admired Agatha Bautista – she was the original observer controller assigned to the _Dalton II_ mission – but she wasn't Commander Spock.

"But that still doesn't explain why you don't want to work with me anymore."

"It is… a matter of emotions."

"I'm too _emotional_?" she snapped. The irony of raising her voice to make such a statement wasn't lost on her, but it still hurt all the same. He really _was_ rejecting her.

"You have exceptional potential, Cadet Uhura."

"But- but you- I-"

She didn't know what to say, so she quit trying. She wanted to ask for another chance but she sensed his mind was made up. A wild urge to explain her feelings for him surfaced, but she pushed it away. Declarations of affection weren't going to help this situation at all.

"I should say goodnight," he finally said. "I am sure you will be successful in your future endeavors."

She almost thought she detected _sadness_ in his voice. She stared at his face, trying to get him to look her in the eyes. His were dark, but very active, brimming with an expression she couldn't identify. He turned and walked away, and she watched him go without saying a word.

Why did he have to be so damn complicated? Why did _she_? She had one great guy who really liked her, but she couldn't bring herself to like him. Then there was Spock: another great guy... none of it mattered. She had a little crush on her former thesis advisor, and she just needed to let it go. She sighed and made her way up to her room, hoping that with a little time and perspective, things would turn out fine in the end.


	9. Intuition

Jealousy was illogical – jealousy was a pernicious emotion that drove those experiencing it to irrational behavior and even violence. Emotions were illogical, jealousy was an emotion, and therefore jealousy was illogical. Emotions were biological but logic was cultural, and therefore logic was ascendance from a primitive and violent past.

His reflections continued to revolve around simple logical constructs that he'd learned as a small child, but his logic was failing. Logic had always seemed as uplifting as the emotion it sought to replace, but the presence of continued jealousy allowed other things to surface, such as longing, loneliness, sadness, and regret.

His difficult adolescence had given him an early education in each of those emotions, and their reemergence in his adult life was distressing. It was distressing to be distressed, and he felt himself a slave to a sentimental chain reaction he was powerless to control.

He doubled his meditative efforts, and though he was successful enough to function normally, he did not _feel_ normal. He did not feel normal because he _felt_. Sheer determination eventually allowed him to keep the lesser feelings in check, but little could be done to erase the jealousy which peaked each afternoon when Jeremy Weber appeared in his Advanced Probabilistic Methods course.

It had been a week since he'd seen Cadets Uhura and Weber in the courtyard of the dormitory buildings. They had been engaging in outward displays of affection and the scene had caused an immediate and unprecedented response in Spock – not emotional, but _physical_.

His stomach had tightened and his heart had begun to race. He understood these symptoms were an autonomic response to external stimuli like danger, but he had not been in danger at the time and he'd learned to suppress fear at an early age. He had visited medical the following morning where the doctor determined his three chambered Vulcan heart was functioning optimally. The physician could offer no explanation for the anomaly.

The heart palpitations had not returned, but the lingering emotions refused to completely fade from the edge of his consciousness and the muted jealousy became a constant companion. He began to understand why romantic relationships between faculty and students were viewed with a high degree of condemnation. Nyota was no longer his student in any capacity, but Jeremy Weber _was_ , and he had done nothing to warrant Spock's disapproval, short of unwittingly involving himself with a woman Spock had formed an attachment to. Cadet Weber was owed fair and impartial treatment and despite his jealousy, Spock was determined to ensure he received it.

Spock was not well-versed in the nuances of human courtship rituals and Cadet Gaila's list had done little to enlighten him, aside from illuminating the convoluted nature of the whole practice. Based on Gaila's list, a physical embrace did not constitute a date, but when taken in context, the whole scene suggested their meeting had been romantic in nature. Or was such an assumption illogical?

He had never seen Uhura and Weber together before, but he also did not have intimate knowledge of their personal lives. Cadet Uhura had never spoken of him during their many conversations, but perhaps she preferred discretion. As a Vulcan, he could respect that. But was she actually dating Jeremy Weber?

He knew from observing his colleagues and students over the years that humans preferred to comb through their social circles for prospective mates until settling for one with a generally compatible personality and collection of interests. _That_ was dating.

Unbonded Vulcans employed vaguely similar tactics to obtain mates through social groups, though not with the same voracity and turnover observed in humans. Even for Vulcans _not_ in the clutches of pon farr, choosing a mate was not done with the same degree of rationality that ruled every other facet of Vulcan life. The idea that developing affection for another individual was not held to the same level of logical scrutiny as everything else had always seemed paradoxical to Spock. 

Now he was beginning to understand why members of his species treated romantic regard with an alternate set of rules; he had never struggled so earnestly with the subconscious and emotional regions of his mind. He had been bonded to T'Pring at age seven but they had always treated each other with a marked amount of rationality and respect. Spock had viewed her no differently than he'd viewed any of his other acquaintances, but perhaps that wasn't how things were supposed to be between mates. Perhaps he did not know what he did not know.

Eventually he decided it might take time, but logic could persevere with sufficient effort and diligence. He busied himself with work, grading papers and projects meticulously and volunteering for additional duties when asked. He kept to his office and his quarters most of the time, choosing to dine from the replicator in his kitchen and meditate in his free moments.

It was Friday morning when he saw her. He had not seen Nyota since the evening by the dormitories. She was sitting in Lieutenant Bautista's office, smiling and deep in conversation. As he passed and she became aware of his presence, her face grew stoic and her eyes searched his face. He nodded and continued walking, but the longing began to return and he noted occasions throughout the day when his sharp concentration waned.

That afternoon he was in his office drafting several pieces of correspondence when a knock at the door halted his productivity. He disengaged the entry release and Cadet Gaila walked in, wearing an apologetic smile and holding a PADD.

"I know your regular office hours ended twenty minutes ago, but I was in the lab finishing the corrections to my subroutines."

He looked at her, raising an eyebrow to provoke more information.

"You know, my course project? I've been working on a series of algorithms to localize radiation sources using indirect scanning methods? Not ringing a bell?"

"I recall your project topic. I am unable to ascertain why you would come to my office to declare this fact."

"Well, I finished running the simulations and everything looks ok, but I was wondering if you could look it over and give me some feedback."

"I believe that would be better handled by one of the teaching assistants."

"Yes- _yes_ , you're right, _but_ … it's Friday and everyone's taking off for the day and I _really_ want to get this done over the weekend and I'm sure it would only take a minute but only if you have the time and I don't want to be a bother but-"

He interrupted her rambling sentence by motioning for her to have a seat with one hand and holding out his other to accept the PADD.

"Perhaps you could start with your initial impressions," he said, transferring the data from her PADD to his desk terminal.

"Oh, yeah, sure. It's actually been really fun working on it. I kind of regret not opting for the honors route and turning it into a senior project. Do you think it's too late to do that?"

"It is late to begin, but there is no deadline."

"Well, I'd need an advisor..."

His eyes flicked from his monitor to the cadet. Orions, females in particular, were renowned for their intuitive reasoning. By his estimation, Cadet Gaila would only ever be an average computer scientist, but she would have made an extraordinary investigator. In her first year, he had urged her to change her area of concentration, but she'd refused, citing a lack of interest in the security training required to become a Starfleet detective.

"There is a formal procedure for procuring an advisor."

"Sure, _sure_ … but isn't it also customary to informally ask before submitting a formal proposal?"

Her eyes were locked on his and colored with an uncharacteristic seriousness. She was also smiling, but her typical carefree attitude had been completely erased. It was a well-documented fact that Orion females could produce powerful pheromones that accelerated the metabolism of the males of most species, making them psychologically pliable and easier to coerce or manipulate, but it was also common knowledge that Vulcan males were immune.

They both knew this, but Spock also knew Gaila well enough not to underestimate her perceptive talents, and so the stage was set – a casual office visit had turned into a battle of Orion intuition versus Vulcan logic.

It was evident her line of questioning concerned her roommate, Cadet Uhura, but he lacked enough information to conclude Gaila's motive. He took care to fully relax his facial muscles and replied, "It is customary, yes. Though when I asked for your initial impressions, I meant your impressions of your subroutines, not of your desire to begin a senior project less than four months before graduation."

"I only _thought_ that since we were on the subject, I could maybe get an idea of whether or not you were willing to take on additional students. What kinds of things do you usually expect from your advising students?"

"We are on this subject due to your diversion from the task at hand and my expectations as an advisor are irrelevant, as I am not _your_ advisor."

" _Sorry_ , I don't mean to go off-topic," she grinned.

Her expression was unyielding and he was about to return to the topic of her project when she released her smile and asked, " _Are you ok_?"

"Your query is vague."

"You seem _off_."

"Your statement is also vague and I fail to see how it is relevant to your project."

"I only wondered if-"

There was subtle knock on the door and a familiar face peeked into the room. His hair was grayer than it had been at their last meeting and the lines were deeper around his eyes, but he was otherwise unchanged. Spock stood in deference to his rank and said, "Good evening, Captain Pike."

Gaila's head whipped around and she stood also, smiling sedately and muttering, " _Captain_."

"I didn't mean to interrupt: it looks like… you're… holding office hours." Pike shook his head and stared at the floor and then looked at Gaila and blinked hard several times.

"My regularly scheduled office hours ended 31 minutes ago," Spock explained, looking sidelong at his Orion student. "Cadet Gaila merely had some peripheral questions."

" _Right_ ," she huffed, twisting her face into a smile. "Thank you _so_ much for your help, Commander Spock."

"Perhaps you should try the teaching assistants," he recommended.

She collected her PADD and brushed past Captain Pike. His cheek twitched and he craned his neck to observe her departure. His face was blank.

"Would you care to sit, Captain?" Spock suggested. He gestured toward the empty seat and Pike's eyes snapped back into focus, but his head swiveled for a moment before he caught sight of the chair.

"Sure," he muttered, adjusting the top of his dress coat. He slumped into the hard chair and began to massage his temples. Spock watched him with subtle curiosity.

Christopher Pike was not only a personal mentor, but also a valued friend. Pike had been the Academy's Director of Initial Entry Training when he first met him and he'd steered Spock through his early days of service in Starfleet with punishing alacrity. The training had been easy, but navigating the human condition had proven close to impossible. He struggled with it still.

In his first week alone, he'd been sent to Pike's office to explain his actions more times than any other trainee in his class. Pike had been patient, but he had not been kind. Spock had nearly left Starfleet in his second year at the Academy following a training simulation in which he had elected to sacrifice half his crew to hold a planet of strategic importance, citing the significance of the mission. The needs of the many versus the needs of the few. _Simple logic_.

The deaths, the planet, the mission – they had all been notional, but Pike had terminated the program, approached his captain's chair, and simply said, "Starfleet has enough computers and machines – it needs _leaders_ , and I don't think that's you. _Get out_."

He had spent days meditating on those words before approaching Pike and requesting a second attempt. The scenario and mission had changed to feature different combatants and a refugee crisis and Spock had failed a second time. After his third failed attempt, Pike had forced his Vulcan protégé to read a twentieth century children's novel titled, _Old Yeller_.

It had been a quick but baffling read and when Spock had asked Pike if he'd assigned the wrong reading by mistake, Pike had roared with laughter and asked if he'd learned anything about love, friendship, sacrifice, and duty. On his fourth attempt, he'd successfully completed the simulation. Pike later put him to work programming other training scenarios, and served as the advisor for his senior project, the _Kobayashi Maru_ simulation, which was still a requirement for command track cadets four years later. 

"Are you ill, Captain?" Spock asked. He noted the captain's graying complexion and watering eyes and suspected Gaila's lingering pheromones might be the cause of his physical discomfort. Spock was immune, but Captain Pike certainly wasn't. 

"Fine," he waved, sitting up to rest his elbows on his knees. "It's been a long time, Commander Spock. Two years? Two and a half?"

"997 days," Spock agreed. "2.73 years."

"Vulcan precision," Pike huffed. "That's why I came to talk to you."

"Clarify, Captain."

"They're commissioning another _Enterprise_ ," Pike explained. "You are familiar with the NX-01?"

"Certainly." Every Starfleet graduate was intimately familiar with Captain Jonathan Archer and his role in early deep space exploration and the founding of the Federation.

"A new flagship, and I've been asked to sit in the captain's chair."

"It is a well-deserved honor."

"I need a first officer."

"By coming here to speak with me privately, I presume you intend to ask me to fill the position?"

Pike smirked and rubbed his temples again. "Most people would play coy and feign shock when I made the offer, but not _you_. That's why I want you. I've been in Starfleet for too long to care for ass kissing and dog and pony shows. So what do you say?"

Spock was accustomed to Captain Pike's love of euphemisms and had learned long ago that "ass kissing" was not a literal statement, but he still wasn't certain what canid and equid species had to do with his offer. Rather than focus on Pike's casual language, he turned over the possibilities. Aside from a six-month assignment to a research station near Alpha Centauri following graduation, he had spent his entire career at the Academy. For proper career progression, he needed an extended deep space assignment and first officer of the Federation flagship was a noteworthy posting.

 _Cadet Uhura._ Strange to think of her now, randomly and without provocation.

"You _ok_?" Pike wondered, sitting up further to lean back in the chair. He was the second person to ask that ambiguous question in the span of an hour.

"What gives you cause to think that I am not?"

"Something in your face? I don't know. Might be me; I'm getting a headache."

"When will the vessel be ready for active service?"

"Shipyard is projecting 2258.40, but you know how inefficient and inexact humans can be."

"Yes," Spock agreed.

"That was a _joke_."

"I see."

"What's your answer?"

Four months. The academic term would be nearly over, and he had nothing tethering him to Starfleet Academy. She would graduate. _Correction_ : her precise location in four months would be irrelevant to his decision to accept this lateral promotion. Pike squinted his eyes and crossed his arms, the picture of bemused scorn.

"I accept you offer," Spock replied. "Thank you for your consideration."

Pike stood and straightened his coat. "I've got to meet someone for dinner in thirty minutes, but maybe you would like to get a drink tomorrow night?"

"You know I do not consume alcohol. Also, I am meeting my mother for dinner tomorrow." They stepped into the hallway and Spock closed his office for the evening.

"Sunday is Valentine's Day and you're taking your mom out on a date?"

"I was under the impression Valentine's Day commemorates the imprisonment, torture, and death of a collection of martyrs of human antiquity, but in modern times has evolved into a holiday in which mates are obliged to exchange gifts and other favors."

Pike's mouth hung open and clicked shut with an audible slam of his teeth.

"And I have not seen my mother in nearly two years," Spock added.

"Of course," Pike mused. "I bet she's a lovely woman."

"She is."

"You know, life is short, Commander Spock."

"My lifespan averages twice as long as yours."

"Was that a joke?"

"No. It was a statement of fact."

Pike held the door for Spock as they exited the main Academy building into the central campus. His eyes twirled in a wide arc and Spock raised his left eyebrow in response.

"I'm starting to regret this already."

"Do you wish to rescind your offer?"

"Absolutely not. What I'm trying to tell you is, life is short, but it's also too long to go through it alone."

"I presume by 'alone' you are not referring to general companionship, but suggesting that I should procure a mate."

"You presume correctly," Pike retorted in a flat tone.

"Are you mocking me?"

"Yes."

Spock cocked his head, prompting Pike to add, "But only because I care."

Spock was uncertain how to respond.

"What I'm saying is... find a girl, buy her some flowers, take her for a walk on the beach or whatever people do these days. I don't know what Vulcans do," Pike mused, before holding up his hands and adding, "You don't have to tell me."

 _Flowers_. Regrettable that Pike's advice would come two weeks too late.

"I'm here in the temporary staff officers' quarters," Pike said, nodding to a low, white brick building. "I'm leaving for the shipyard on Sunday morning, but I'm glad to have you on my team, Commander Spock. Live long and prosper."

They exchanged the ta'al, the traditional Vulcan salute, and then Pike tipped his service cap and disappeared into the single-story building.

Spock proceeded to his own quarters, and lost himself in introspection for the next 24 hours. The longing was now outcompeting the jealousy, and the most intensive meditation could only tame it, not eradicate it.

When he noted the time the following evening, he hurried to perform his customary routine of person hygiene and dressed in civilian attire to meet his mother for dinner. Halfway to his destination, the taxi became mired in traffic of unknown origin.

Delays were not uncommon in central San Francisco, but as the minutes ticked by, he recognized he would be late and considered completing his journey on foot. When vehicles began to move at a steadier pace, he calculated an arrival time of 1914 hours. 14 minutes overdue.

He messaged the update to his mother and her only response was, "I love you. See you when you get here."

She specialized in illogical acknowledgments. His mother was often illogical, but that was not the same as unwise. He did not often ask for his mother's advice, but she was often in the habit of perceiving his need for it. Perhaps Amanda would know what to do.


	10. An Unexpected Meeting

"I just don't like him," Gaila insisted. "He's _too_ …"

Gaila's hand rotated several flourishes at the wrist as a placeholder for a derisive word she couldn't recollect. Several droplets of color fell from the nail polish brush in her fingers and landed on her bedspread. " _Dammit_."

Nyota rolled her eyes and pulled the back of her shoe over her heel with her index finger. "Look, Jeremy and I obviously aren't soul mates, but he's _friendly_ , and he's willing to have dinner with me on Valentine's Day weekend."

"That also describes a German Shepherd."

Nyota wanted to be offended, but the remark was funny. Rather than admit that to Gaila however, she pretended to cough over her laugh and stood to straighten her shirt.

She turned to look at herself in the long mirror on the closet door. She presented a polished and professional appearance in a pair of low heels, trim charcoal-colored slacks, and a burgundy blouse. She wore her hair in loose waves and lipstick to match her top. She'd decided to opt for the "fake it 'til you make it" strategy.

Nyota had attended several conferences before, but never alone. They were always massive events, full of people networking their way through panels, workshops, and presentations. It was easy to get swallowed in a crowd and overwhelmed when there were so many fascinating sessions to attend and renowned experts to talk to. Not one of her friends had wanted to devote an entire Saturday to a xenolinguistics conference when they were already overwhelmed with their coursework. How shortsighted. 

Even Jeremy had refused and like her, he was also studying communications with a concentration in xenolinguistics. But Jeremy had insisted on spending the day photographing moose on a snowshoe hike through central Alaska. She certainly had an adventurous spirit and wasn't afraid of getting dirty, but none of the nouns in the phrase "snowshoe hiking through Alaska in February to take pictures of moose" really appealed to her, especially when there was a major linguistics conference in town. His trip had been planned for months and he swore he would transport back in time for their date that evening, so they agreed to go their separate ways for the day.

"You look sharp," Gaila said, looking up from her freshly painted toenails to Nyota's reflection in the mirror.

"Thanks," she said, collecting her things to leave. "What are you doing today?"

"I was going to work on my project for Commander Spock's course," Gaila replied. "Speaking of Commander Spock… I went and talked to him yesterday."

Her heart skipped a beat and her eyes darted to her roommate. There was a methodical tone to her statement and a piercing nature to her eyes. Nyota forced a smile and replied, "That's _great_."

What did she care if her roommate was talking to her former advisor? That wasn't _so_ weird  – he was still Gaila's professor.

"He seemed a little off," Gaila said. 

" _Hmmm_ ," Nyota shrugged, searching for her black purse to match her outfit.

"You know, you've seemed a little off too."

"Would you stop it?" Nyota snapped. "I'm _fine_."

"I think we both know that 'fine' is usually code for 'not fine.' I set you up with Brondon and that was a mistake – one which you still haven't let me forget – and now you're going out with Jeremy, and I think that's a mistake too."

"So… _what_?" Nyota retorted.

"I'm saying you don't have a connection with Jeremy. Besides, he just broke up with Amy Nguyen. You deserve better than to be someone's rebound."

"I never claimed we were passionately in love."

" _No_ , you didn't," Gaila agreed. "But I _know_ you, and Jeremy's not right for you. Besides, no one is _that_ perfect. If he loved languages as much as he says he does, he'd be falling all over himself to take you to this conference. There's something weird about him."

"You've been saying that all week."

"It doesn't mean it's not true."

"Aren't you always saying that there's nothing wrong with having fun while hunting for the right guy?"

"Yes, but if you'd stop being so defensive, you might believe me when I say I think you might have already found the right guy."

" _Huh_?"

"Are you really going to make me say it?"

A staring competition commenced. Gaila's eyebrows were raised in infuriating smugness, and Nyota could feel her face growing hot.

"I already told you; there is _nothing_ between me and Commander Spock and never was."

"Oh _good_ : so you _do_ know who I'm talking about."

"I'm not doing this with you, Gaila."

"You don't have to. What _I'm_ saying is, two weeks ago when I lost you in Noe Valley, I found you in the hallway of our dorm in his arms looking like you were seconds away from inviting him in and hanging a bra on the door as a signal for me to go away."

"That is not at _all_ how that-"

"You can lie to yourself, but don't lie to me."

"He was my advisor. My very _Vulcan_ advisor. Even if there was anything between us  – and there _isn't_ – what difference does it make? He wants nothing to do with me and in a few months I'm going to graduate and he's going to stay here teaching at the Academy."

"That's a lot of assumptions," Gaila frowned. "I happen to know he just accepted an offer to serve as first officer on the fleet's new flagship."

"The _Enterprise_?"

" _That's_ it," Gaila smiled. "Wasn't that your top choice for assignments? Something about being 'the most technologically advanced ship in Starfleet?' And correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't assignment preference based on order of merit? And remind me again who's currently fourth in our class…"

" _So_? This doesn't mean anything. I don't- it's not- where did you even hear this?"

"About assignment preference? That's common knowledge."

"No, about Spock being first officer of the _Enterprise_?"

Mischief twinkled in Gaila's eyes and she said, "Orions have good hearing. I hear things."

"I have to go," Nyota said, snatching her purse from the chair and grabbing her coat.

"Yeah, sure. Enjoy the conference. And your date with _Jeremy_."

"At least I _have_ a date."

"What makes you think I don't have a date for tonight?"

"You said you would be working on your project."

"Sure, but I'm meeting Jim Kirk for drinks later."

"You're joking."

"What's wrong with him? He's pretty."

"He's an arrogant ass who thinks women should just drop their panties whenever he opens his mouth." She still hadn't forgotten that fight in a dive bar at the Riverside shipyards three years earlier. 

"Yes I know," Gaila laughed. "It'll be fun."

"Whatever," Nyota said, opening the door. "Just promise me you won't bring him back to our room."

She didn't wait for Gaila's response. She left the room, determined to flee the all-knowing gaze of her roommate before the conversation could turn back to more uncomfortable topics. What did Gaila know about romance anyway if she was going out with Jim Kirk?

Nyota's chest felt constricted and heavy. For two weeks she had rolled it all around in her mind and found no answers. Every word of their final conversation was burned into her memory. There were just too many negative emotions surrounding Commander Spock. She kept hearing his words in her mind. 

 _"You are very talented, cadet."_ If that were true, why didn't he want to work with her? _Confusion_.

 _"You have exceptional potential."_ He said that often, and he wasn't in the habit of giving undue praise. _Irritation_.

 _"I am sure you will be successful in your future endeavors."_ A cadet's success also reflected well on the advisor, so why wouldn't he be eager to have her as his student if he thought she was talented, full of exceptional potential, and likely to be successful? _Rejection_.

 _"It is… a matter of emotions."_ _That_ was almost certainly why. She was too emotional, and he probably found it draining to be around her all the time. _Embarrassment. Hurt. Self-doubt._

She stepped into a waiting cab and pulled her PADD from her purse and attempted to review the conference schedule. Commander Spock was going to be first officer of the _Enterprise._

Gaila's revelation was an interesting development. He was leaving the Academy to serve on deep space and diplomatic missions aboard the very ship to which she had requested an assignment. Maybe his refusal to work as her advisor had nothing to do with her at all; maybe he was just trying to get his personal life in order before switching assignments. But then why would he talk about it being a "matter of emotions?"

She knew it wasn't normal to obsess about something this much. She also knew that not everyone would like her, that not everything was about her, and that sometimes things in life were just bound to remain mysteries.

Those rules didn't seem like they should apply to Commander Spock. He was _logical._  He wouldn't just decide to start disliking her for no reason. Passive aggressive behavior also didn't seem logical either, so if she had done something to offend him or make him not like her, he would probably tell her. Perhaps it was only the lack of a real explanation and closure that was driving her crazy.

That and the fact that she still thought about him at odd moments and had a dried chrysanthemum blossom pressed in an antique Klingon dictionary her mother had given her when she left for the Academy. It was stupid and sentimental, but she had been sad when it came time to throw the dead flowers away.

Her eyes drifted down to the PADD in her hands and she realized she'd been staring at the same screen, reading the same words, and not really absorbing any of them. How frustrating to let one professor get under her skin this way.

She strained her mind to focus on the schedule of events and she began to drift from her personal problems back to the conference. She was eager to attend the workshop on dialogue analytics at 0930 hours, and there was an intriguing seminar at noon titled Frontiers in Mathematical Linguistics, but what she most looked forward to was a panel with a group of programmers, sociologists, and linguists who had worked on Project Rosetta.

Project Rosetta had been a decade-long undertaking by thousands of experts and volunteers throughout the Federation to establish an adaptive standard translation program capable of integration across all Federation computing platforms – the Universal Translator. Crude translators had been in existence since the earliest days of space exploration but they'd been fraught with problems.

Project Rosetta turned thirty years old this year. Though the original program routinely received updates and improvements, it had managed to stand the test of time. Three decades of successful operation in a modern technological age was a true achievement and a testament to the work of so many, and Nyota was beyond excited to meet some of the people who had made it possible. What she got was disappointment.

The morning workshops and seminars had been interesting and informative, but a lecture on sociolinguistics had run a bit long and by the time she made it to the Rosetta Panel, she had to fight to get through the crowd. Though the panel was held in the largest auditorium at the conference center, it was standing room only an hour before it began. She had been lucky to be admitted at all, and had ended up so far in the back she could only see half the participants on a nearby screen.

She left at 1800 hours, wondering how best to kill an hour before her date with Jeremy at Vegley. She messaged him and didn't receive an immediate reply, so she tucked her PADD into her purse and decided to explore downtown on foot.

The sinking sun chilled the evening air and her shoes weren't made for long marches, so by the time she made it to the restaurant, she was taking tender steps from the blisters on her heels. She searched for Jeremy and checked her PADD – _no messages_.

It was only 1845 and even though they had a reservation, the waiter wouldn't seat her until Jeremy arrived, so she took a seat at the rapidly filling bar and ordered a glass of wine. Being the day before Valentine's Day, the whole of the restaurant was permeated by open and annoying displays of love. Everywhere she looked, feet flirted under tables, hands gripped other hands across tablecloths, and eyelashes fluttered in a barrage of adoration.

Rather than turn back to dwelling on her lukewarm feelings about Jeremy and her conflicted feelings about Spock, she took a deep drink from her glass and waved to get the bartender's attention. More alcohol was definitely necessary on a night like tonight.

"Is anyone sitting here?"

She craned her neck to see an older woman standing behind her, pointing to the open seat to Nyota's right.

"Oh, no. I'm just waiting on my date," she admitted, clicking her PADD to check the time. 1907. Jeremy was late.

"Me too," the woman grinned, taking a seat and pulling her purse from her shoulder to set it in her lap. "I sure do miss San Francisco."

"Oh, you're not from here?" Nyota asked.

"I lived here a long time ago, but the city is about the same as it ever was."

She had a kind smile and an open face that made Nyota instantly like her. There was something familiar to her face, but she couldn't remember if she had ever seen her before.

"I'm not from here either, but I love it too," Nyota explained.

"What brings you to San Francisco?" the woman asked. "Actually, let me guess… _Starfleet Academy_?"

"You have a good eye," Nyota laughed. "What gave it away?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "You have a very professional bearing for someone so young."

"Well, _thanks_ I guess."

The bartender arrived to take the woman's drink order and Nyota ordered a second glass of wine for herself and small appetizer of eggplant and mint bruschetta. She checked her PADD again – still no word from Jeremy.

"So what brings you into town?" she asked her new companion.

"I was here for the xenolinguistics conference."

"I was there too. What events did you attend?"

"I sat on the Rosetta Panel."

"Are you kidding me? _I was just there_! I could barely see anything because I was literally at the back of the room, but the discussion was incredible."

She couldn't recall seeing the woman but her view had been fairly obscured from her position from her poor vantage point. Maybe that was why she looked so familiar.

"Are you a linguist?" the woman asked.

"Oh, I'm actually in comm-"

Her PADD began an annoying chorus of chirping. _Now_ Jeremy decided to call.

"I'm so sorry, excuse me," she groaned, reaching for her device to accept the audio transmission.

"Hey, where are you?" she complained. "You're ten minutes late and I haven't heard from you all day."

"Yeah, listen, I'm so sorry, but I was late getting back from Fairbanks."

"Ok. When will you be here?"

"Look, Nyota, I think- I think you're great, but we both know things aren't going to work out."

" _What_?"

"You're an amazing person, but I know you're not that interested in me."

"You ask me on a date on Valentine's Day weekend and stand me up at the last minute? Not even the last minute – you're ten minutes late. Is this a joke?"

"I'm sorry, Nyota, but I should probably be honest with you-"

She clenched her jaw and clicked the PADD off, feeling her cheeks beginning to glow with embarrassment. It wouldn't be accurate to say she was deeply hurt, but she was growing intimately familiar with the feeling of rejection. To make matters worse, she'd just caused a mini scene in front of all the people in close proximity to her at the bar. Her PADD started to chirp again and she silenced it and shoved it into her bag.

"I'm in communications," she finished, turning back to the woman on her right and trying to look upbeat.

The woman was staring into her glass of wine out of politeness, but offered an empathetic look. "Are you ok?"

"Huh? Oh, _him_?" she laughed. "I'm a little disappointed, but to be honest, he was right. I wasn't really that interested in him."

"Who asks a woman out on a date and then doesn't show up for it?"

"I know, right?" Nyota laughed, sipping from her glass of wine. "I really am fine though. My roommate did try to warn me about him and I probably should have listened."

"Sometimes the other people in our lives are better at seeing things that we can't. I'm sure things will work out for the best. Even still, I'm sorry."

Just then, the bartender delivered a small plate of crostini slathered with chopped eggplant and herbs. Her stomach growled, and she smiled.

"Things are already looking up," she said, gesturing to the food. "Would you like some?"

"That's so nice of you," she grinned. "But my son will be here any minute."

"Your son?"

"Yes, I haven't seen him in a few years, but that's really my fault. I don't get back to Earth as often as I'd like."

"Oh, where do you live now?"

"Vulcan."

"You live on Vulcan?" Nyota gasped. "What is _that_ like?"

" _Hot_ ," the woman laughed. "It was hard to get used to at first, but it grew on me over the years."

"What made you move to Vulcan?"

"I married a Vulcan," she grinned.

Nyota began to feel a curious pull in her chest and looked closely at the woman's face. There was something to her eyes that she recognized and she realized she was holding her breath. She knew from a quiet discussion aboard the _Dalton II_ that Spock was half human. 

"Is something wrong?"

"Uh, _no_ ," she lied. "You just… remind me of someone."

"Oh my goodness! I've been so rude," the woman said, setting down her wineglass to extend a hand. "I probably should have introduced myself by now. I'm Amanda. Amanda Grayson."

Nyota's mouth was dry. She recalled the name from the panel, but the Rosetta Project was now among the furthest things from her mind. She reached out her right hand to return the handshake of her new acquaintance, unsure exactly what to say. That was what was so familiar – her _eyes_. The chocolate color of the woman's eyes was identical to the brown flecks she's seen in Spock's eyes when she'd been checking his pupils all those months ago after Spock had been knocked unconscious by a Nausicaan energy weapon. 

"Oh, my son's here," she said, eyes darting over Nyota's shoulder. "He's actually a professor at Starfleet Academy – maybe you know him?"

She had a sinking feeling that she did. Things were moving in slow motion. She turned in her seat to observe Spock standing five meters away.

Surprise wasn't a very Vulcan thing to express, and though Spock's face was as smooth and neutral as it ever was, but there was something rigid in his posture. In the low light of the restaurant, she could also make out the muscles in his throat swallowing carefully, and observed the flicker of his eyes from Amanda to Nyota, their hands still locked in an introductory handshake.

Of all the things to think of in that moment, she chose Gaila's stupid checklist. One point in particular stood out –

" _Do you know each other's families_?"


	11. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

Their hands were locked in a customary human handshake. His mother, and _her_. How had this happened?

 _How_ they had come to be acquainted was irrelevant at the moment. He recalled Cadet Gaila's ambiguous checklist with vivid clarity – there was no ambiguity here.  _"Do you know each other's families_?" 

Though his mother was but a single representative of his family, her casual interaction with Cadet Uhura was… _unsettling_. He didn't have time to reflect upon it.

"Spock!" his mother grinned. "Come here; it's been too long."

Uhura had turned her back and was waving her hand in the air in the direction of the oblivious bartender at the other end. From somewhere at the fringes of his consciousness, his mind registered how lovely she looked, despite her obvious discomfort.

"Spock, do you know- actually, I didn't catch _your_ name," Amanda laughed, turning back to the bar.

"Oh, yeah," the cadet hesitated. "Uhura. Nyota Uhura."

"That's such a lovely name. Where is it from?"

"What? Oh- _huh_?"

Spock inched forward, hands behind his back and replied, "It is Swahili."

Her recalled from one of their earliest conversations that her given name meant "star" in her native tongue, and her family name was a derivative of the word for "freedom."

" _Right_ ," Uhura spluttered. "It's- it's not that interesting. Um… _good evening_ , Commander Spock." 

"Cadet Uhura," he replied, nodding to acknowledge her.

"So I take it you two know each other?" Amanda mused.

Spock could feel his mother's eyes studying him closely, and though he looked in her direction, he could not compel himself to directly meet her gaze. Uhura had resumed her desperate bid to get the bartender's attention, but he was occupied with five other patrons.

"Yes," Spock replied. "We are acquainted."

" _Sir_! Excuse me?" Uhura finally called. "I just need to pay my tab!"

Spock glanced around the room, unable to locate Cadet Weber. An all-too-familiar twinge of jealousy erupted, but he dismissed it. Cadet Uhura seemed to be alone.

"Are you leaving?" Amanda asked.

"I probably should," Uhura answered. "I'm sure you two have a lot to catch up on."

"But you've barely touched your food," Amanda said, motioning to a plate on the bar. "Or your wine. It would be a shame to waste it."

" _Uh_ … right." Before she could contrive an excuse, the maître d approached and explained to Spock and Amanda that he had just given away his last available table for two.

"What about three?" Amanda asked, looking sidelong at Uhura.

"I can seat the three of you now at a table for four," he explained.

"Well Miss Uhura: would you join us for dinner?" Amanda asked.

"I don't- I shouldn't- isn't- don't you want to spend some time together?" Uhura stammered, finally casting a glance at Spock.

He could see the whites of her eyes and her mouth hung open. She seemed upset, which was unsettling.

"I can't say my son has ever given me the pleasure of meeting any of his friends."

"Cadet Uhura and I are not friends. I was her advisor for a brief period – that is all," he explained to his mother.

"And I don't want to intrude," Uhura added.

"It would be no intrusion," Spock rebutted softly.

His own words surprised him. Her presence was unexpected and though he'd spent two weeks endeavoring to forget her, now that they were here together, he did not want her to leave. His mother's company added a peculiar element, but there was nothing he could do about that. Also, he _had_ hoped for her unsolicited advice.

"See?" Amanda said to Uhura. "It's no imposition. Besides, I'm lucky if I can ever pry anything out of my son about his life. I'm willing to hear about Spock from a third party."

Her comment prompted him to question the arrangement, but it was too late. Uhura's dark eyes darted back and forth between him and his mother, and then to the maître d standing between them.

"I believe it will be more than an hour wait for a two-person table," the maître d explained. "Perhaps when your date arrives-"

"He isn't coming," Uhura interrupted. "It's just me."

Spock's eyebrow instinctively flicked upward and the gentle turn at the corners of her mouth suggested she had seen it. Their eyes danced around each other's faces until they finally met, and when they did, Spock encountered a sensation he'd only experienced once before in the hallway of her dormitory. The ozh'esta. The desire to pull her close to him. The instinct to kiss her. The base and illogical impulses.

"Please join us," Amanda insisted.

Spock finally broke eye contact with Uhura and glanced at the ground. He recognized her unfortunate position: continuing to refuse would be rude.

"Bring your wine and your appetizer," Amanda added. "We can order more."

The maître d guided them to a table near the center of the room and Spock took a seat between the two women. A waiter came and offered menus and filled their water glasses and as he left, his mother stood.

"Where are you going?" Spock questioned.

Amanda blushed and gave him a quizzical look. "To the lavatory."

Spock regretted his inquiry and intrusion into his mother's privacy. She patted him on the arm and laughed, "I'll be right back; I promise."

Then they were alone. They sat with their faces canted slightly away from one another. Her hands were folded in her lap and his were resting on the table. It was Uhura who finally broke the silence. "I know Vulcans don't eat with their hands, but would you like some eggplant bruschetta?"

Spock eyed the dish she'd brought with her from the bar, unfolded his napkin to place it in his lap, and slid a fork underneath one of the hard pieces of bread. It was quite palatable.

"Your mom seems really nice."

"She is a remarkable woman," Spock agreed.

"Why didn't you ever tell me she worked on the universal translator?"

"It was never relevant to any of our conversations, but my mother is a gifted linguist, much as you are."

"Was that a compliment?"

"I believe it was."

"Commander Spock?"

"Cadet Uhura?"

"I know I've asked you this before, but you've never given me a straight answer and it's driving me crazy. Why don't you want to be my advisor anymore? You said I was too emotional, but-"

"I did not say that."

"Yes you did. You said-"

"What I said was-"

The shuffling of the chair next to him signaled his mother's return and ended his explanation.

"Have you looked at the menu yet?" she grinned.

They evidently hadn't, but his mother had a gift for averting the uncomfortable with gratuitous chatter.

"Miss Uhura, could you recommend something?"

"This is actually my first time here," she confessed.

"I picked this place because it's vegetarian," Amanda explained, eyeing Spock.

"I'm a vegetarian too."

" _Wonderful_ ," Amanda replied, picking up the old-fashioned, single page paper menu. "So tell me again how you two know each other."

Why was his mother positing questions she already knew the answers to?

"He was the instructor for my xenolinguistics programming lab two years ago," Uhura began. "Then he was the observer-controller for my comprehensive final last term."

"That sounds fascinating," Amanda said, looking up from her menu. "How did it go?"

"Not well," Spock replied.

"Our shuttle- it uh, _crashed_ ," Uhura explained, looking at his hands on the table.

Amanda glared at Spock. "I didn't know you were in a shuttle crash. _Why didn't you tell me_?"

There were many things he kept from her because he knew they would only cause her to worry. Worry was illogical, especially after the danger had already passed, but his mother had never put much stock in logic.

"It's not as bad as it sounds, really," Uhura explained, using her remarkable intuition to slice through the tension. "We did lose a cadet, but if it weren't for Commander Spock, myself and the others wouldn't have made it out of there alive. He saved my life."

"I also owe my life to you," he replied, glancing in her direction.

Not only had she helped subdue the Nausicaan pirates that attacked them, he still had a faint scar on left arm from a severe compound fracture he'd sustained in the crash. It had been the quick-thinking cadet sitting to his right who had mended it. The end result hadn't been perfect but she had stopped the blood loss and saved his limb, and whenever he saw the scar, he thought of her.

"It sounds like the two of you have been through a lot together," Amanda mused, glowering at Spock.

The expression on her face was exactly why he never told her about the more dangerous aspects of his profession.

"It was one incident," Spock explained.

"Didn't you also say you were Miss Uhura's advisor though?" she asked, looking across the table to the young woman.

"I was for a brief time, yes. Cadet Uhura has found a more suitable arrangement with another faculty member."

" _Oh_ ," Amanda mumbled, looking down to contemplate the menu in her hands. "I didn't mean to pry."

Spock doubted that and was about to reply when Uhura spoke, explaining, "It was nothing bad: it's just that Commander Spock is very busy. He teaches six classes and still conducts independent research. I was taking up too much of his time, so I found another advisor to make things easier for him."

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. How curious that she would soften the situation, particularly under the circumstances.

"Which I think has worked out, especially now that he's leaving the Academy soon," she added.

He mulled her offhand remark, glimpsing her from the corner of his eye. How did she know? He hadn't told anyone… unless her roommate had been eavesdropping in the hallway during his discussion with Captain Pike.

"What's this?" Amanda asked. "Where are you going?"

"I have tentatively been offered an assignment on a _Constitution_ -class starship currently under construction," he explained. "A fact that I hadn't intended to make public until I had official orders."

"I'm not the public. I'm your _mother_."

"I'm sorry I brought it up," Uhura mumbled, looking in his direction. "I didn't realize no one was supposed to know."

"It was only decided yesterday," Spock added, deducing that Cadet Gaila must have been eavesdropping on his conversation with Captain Pike. It seemed to Spock that many humans loved gossip, but nearly _all_ Orions worshipped it. 

Amanda gave him a puzzled look and opened her mouth to speak again when the waiter mercifully chose that moment to return and take their order.

"The gemelli and green bean salad with the lemon-thyme vinaigrette sounds delicious," Amanda said, returning the menu to the server.

The waiter looked up from his PADD to Uhura, who said, "May I have the chickpea and winter vegetable stew?"

That had been what Spock intended to order. It would be irrational to change his dinner selection simply because she desired the same thing, so he placed a second order for himself. The waiter left and silence settled over the table.

"Well, _someone_ say something," Amanda urged.

Spock's head slowly tilted in her direction.

"I guess I could always tell stories about when you were a baby," she threatened. "You were the cutest toddler, you know."

Horror was illogical, but it surfaced from deep within his consciousness all the same. He stared at his mother and his ears detected a soft snort on the other side of the table. "I do not believe Cadet Uhura is interested in anecdotes about my formative years."

"To tell you the truth, I _am_ ," Uhura admitted, suppressing a laugh. "But I don't want to embarrass you."

"A true friend," Amanda smiled.

Though he didn't make eye contact, he could see the cadet's eyes were bright and curious. It had been too long since he'd seen her so relaxed and it occurred to him how much he longed for her casual company once again. 

He had already explained that they were _not_ friends – she was a cadet, he was an Academy instructor – but Amanda seemed determined to ignore his earlier correction. Spock took a sip of his water and received a painful shock. He preferred his beverages lukewarm; he had never understood the human desire to consume drinks at a temperature just above their freezing point. Another silence loomed, but it was Uhura who stirred the conversation.

"So… _Mrs_.?"

"Please, Amanda."

"Ok, _Amanda_ , what was it like working on the Rosetta Project?"

"I started out volunteering when I was working as a primary school teacher at the diplomatic school. That's actually sort of how I met Spock's father."

"Oh, is he a teacher also?"

"No. Didn't Spock tell you?" Amanda asked, scrutinizing her son.

Spock never spoke of his father to anyone. He never spoke to his father anymore either; at least not since he'd joined Starfleet. Spock preferred to distance himself from Sarek, and as far as he knew, none of his friends, colleagues, or students knew he was the son of a well-known ambassador.

He would have preferred to keep it that way, since he understood the human inclination to confuse individuals with their parents. His father was a diplomat with an impressive list of achievements, and Spock had no desire to stand in his shadow. That was one of the reasons he had chosen Starfleet instead of the Vulcan Science Academy eight years ago.

"My father is an ambassador. He was serving as the Vulcan ambassador to Earth when he met my mother," he explained.

"Your dad's an _ambassador_?"

"Yes."

" _Oh_. Um, _ok_."

"He sends his greetings, by the way," Amanda added, peeking at Spock before continuing her story. "Anyway, I was working at the diplomatic school and volunteering on the translator. I started out sifting through the linguistic databases for errors and assisting with grammar analysis and syntax generation but eventually I took a paid contract to work on the Vulcanoid languages database."

"I'm guessing you're probably close to fluent in Vuhlkansu," Uhura said, leaning over the table onto her forearms.

"Yes," Amanda admitted. "All six dialects. I'm also pretty handy with the three known dialects of Romulan and can stumble my way through Rigelian. The Vulcanoid languages definitely put me through my paces."

"That's _amazing_ ," Uhura gushed. "I've loved languages since I was little. That's why I chose a concentration in xenolinguistics. Vuhlkansu is _tough_. I actually started with Romulan, since it's less fluid than Vuhlkansu."

"Definitely," Amanda agreed with a wide grin. "I also started with Romulan – it's so much easier. The vocabulary can be cumbersome, but it's more utilitarian."

"I'm still working to master Vuhlkansu," Uhura explained.

His mother shot him a suspicious glance and replied, "I wish I could offer an easy trick, but I don't know one. Just years and years of hard work."

"Cadet Uhura is extraordinarily proficient, for having only studied the language for a short time."

Uhura gawked and him and mumbled, "I'm really not that fluent."

"I've never known my son to give an undeserved compliment," Amanda argued. " _Sos'eh fam nam'tor du et'liwh dva'tor du_."

Spock concurred with his mother's assessment – her Vuhlkansu was not as bad as she thought it was.

"Well, thanks for the compliment, I suppose," Uhura replied, shifting her eyes in his direction.

"Do you communicate in any other languages?" Amanda asked.

"I've put a lot of work into Klingon recently."

"Now _there's_ a language," his mother chuckled. "Qatlh tlhIngan?"

"QaD pagh Qujmey Da'ovQo' jIH," Uhura said in a low tone.

There was a pause, and then the two women burst into laughter, drawing the attention of several nearby patrons. They continued a short conversation in Klingon, and Spock, unable to understand a word of the choppy language, sat quietly until their food arrived several minutes later.

They were quiet through most of the meal. Spock found the stew to be quite agreeable and noted Cadet Uhura seemed to be enjoying it also. He noticed his eyes continued to drift in her direction, so he made more of a conscious effort to focus on his food. All of the negative emotions he'd worked to subdue over the past weeks were gone, replaced by curiosity.

When Amanda finished her salad, she placed her napkin on the table and asked, "So, Spock – tell me more about this new job of yours."

"I will serve as first officer aboard _Enterprise_  and also fill the role of Chief Science Officer."

"That sounds like a lot," his mother pondered. "Do you know where you'll go?"

"The _Enterprise_ will be Starfleet's new flagship, responsible for deep space exploration and diplomatic missions. The captain is a longtime friend of mine."

"Another friend I've love to meet," she said.

It never occurred to him that his mother would have such an interest in his social circle. He hadn't expected her to invite Cadet Uhura to dinner, but he was now glad for it. She continued to eat quietly and Spock noticed he was staring at her again – a detail that didn't seem lost on his mother.

"What about _you_ , Miss Uhura? What will you do when you're done with Starfleet Academy? You said you were studying communications and xenolinguistics."

"Well, I've submitted my requests," she said, placing her spoon down on her bowl. "But I won't know where I'm going for a few more months."

"Your grades are impeccable," Spock replied. "It is likely you will receive your first choice of assignment."

"I guess we'll see," she replied with a grim smile, retrieving her spoon to finish the last of her meal.

The waiter came by with their check and Spock handed over his chip card. Cadet Uhura opened her mouth to protest, then clamped it shut, managing to utter, "Thank you, Commander Spock."

He thought of the checklist again, noting that he was once again paying for something she was consuming, but he hadn't invited her to this restaurant, and also hadn't invited her to join them. They were in a public place, his mother was present, and there was alcohol – a glass of wine she had ordered before he arrived. Though he was glad for her company, surely this encounter was not correctly classified as a date? Was she not engaged in courtship rituals with Cadet Weber? Where was _he_?

When the bill was paid and the last vestiges of food were consumed, they stood to leave and Spock found himself sorry that the evening was coming to an end.  _Illogical_. All evenings came to an end, assuming time was linear and correctly identified as a universal factor of synchronization.

They walked together toward the exit and his mother turned and shook Uhura's hand before abandoning the gesture to pull her into a hug. How surprising that his mother would embrace someone she only recently became acquainted with.

"Do you have a ride home?" she asked Uhura.

"I was just going to call a cab," she explained. "It was so nice to meet you, and thank you _so_ much for inviting me to eat with you."

"I hope to run across you again someday," Amanda said, a wry smile drifting across her lips.

"Yeah, of course," Uhura agreed with a subtle smile and nod.

It was then that she caught Spock's gaze, bit her bottom lip, and looked at the door. "It was also good to see you, Commander Spock."

"Certainly," he replied, uncertain of standard rules for decorum in such a situation.

He wished to speak with her privately, but he had an obligation to his mother. He would see Cadet Uhura again, but he only saw Amanda once every few years.

"Good night," Uhura said, backing out of the swinging door to the restaurant.

Through the wide glass windows, he could see her turn left and stroll along the sidewalk, pulling her PADD from her purse. Amanda leaned forward into Spock's field of view, smiled, and asked, "Care to walk me home?"

" _Home_ is 16 light years away."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"No, it was a fact."

She fought back a grin and said, "I'm staying at the diplomatic hotel. It's only about seven blocks from here."

"I am willing to escort you," he replied, holding open the door for her to pass.

"Wasn't that a wonderful bit of serendipity?" Amanda laughed as they stepped into the cool night air of San Francisco.

An illogical word. Serendipity – an irrational human belief in a supernatural phenomenon about finding things without looking for them.

"Specify."

"Running into such a lovely young woman, I mean."

"Cadet Uhura has many admirable qualities," he agreed.

"If she saved your life, I should I think so," Amanda mused. "Tell me more about her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact - the end of this chapter directly intersects with a one-shot I wrote titled, [ _A Necklace's Story._](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7731934) The next chapter will pick up with Nyota's point of view, so consider that story a "director's cut," if you will. It's not necessary to read in the context of this story, but it's there if you're interested.


	12. By the Light of a Waxing Gibbous Moon

The cab pulled away from the curb and she rested her cheek on the headrest, staring out at the myriad of colored lights from the thriving city. Her heart was finally beginning to slow and her hands weren't shaking anymore, but her palms were still sweaty and her mind was performing cartwheels. Life was fickle sometimes.

She just shared a meal with Commander Spock… and his _mom_. What had started out as the most awkward encounter of her life had turned into a decent evening. She _liked_ Spock's mother, and Amanda had seemed to like her too. Ever since Spock told her he was half human, she'd wondered what kind of woman would marry a Vulcan. Now she knew, and was stunned to find out she was a woman a lot like herself.

She blushed and closed her eyes, fighting the impulse to chuckle. The cab ground to a halt and she put her hand out to avoid getting slammed face-first into the seatback in front of her.

"Sorry, miss. _Sorry_ ," the driver moaned. "Traffic just stopped. You ok back there?"

"Yeah," Nyota replied, leaning to peer between the seats. Red taillights glared at her from rows of buses and shuttlecars sitting idle in the road.

" _Oh boy_. Navigation is saying a bus flipped over a block ahead," the driver whined.

There was no point in asking if there was some other way around. The narrow, one-way street was now a temporary parking lot. At least she hadn't been on the shuttlebus.

She wasn't in a hurry to get back to her dorm, but the night's events had her feeling edgy and restless. She could hear the wail of emergency sirens in the distance and figured she could settle into the backseat of the cab and let her thoughts gnaw at her, or she could agonize over the details of her night during a long walk and find another way home. It wasn't a hard choice.

She paid the driver, wished him luck, and stepped out onto the sidewalk. She was at the fringes of the government district and though she had toured several Federation offices during her years at the Academy, she wasn't very familiar with this part of town.

She walked half a block and started to regret her decision. Her shoes pinched her feet mercilessly, tearing at the blisters on her heels and pinky toes. Though the night air was cool, it was still warm for the middle of February. She deliberated chucking her shoes in her purse and going barefooted, but she wasn't that desperate. _Yet_.

She went another block and arrived at a busier thoroughfare with wide sidewalks and more pedestrian traffic. She could see the glow of the massive embassy complex about a dozen blocks to her right, and to her left, at the end of a very long row of buildings, she could make out a dark void. _The ocean._

She'd visited almost all of San Francisco's beaches countless times during her first year at the Academy, but she couldn't remember the last time she'd experienced the ocean. She almost felt sad realizing that in just a few short months, San Francisco would no longer be her home.

She'd been beyond excited to leave Mombasa for Starfleet Academy and strike out on her own, but her first months had been full of unanticipated homesickness. She'd never admitted it to anyone; she'd always opted for big smiles and exciting stories during chats with her family that were becoming less regular with each passing year. San Francisco was a world apart from Mombasa, literally and culturally, but the one thing that made her feel almost at home was the ocean.

She had come every weekend in those early days, sometimes with friends and sometimes alone, but there was something about the salty air and the vast expanse of water that brought her comfort. It reminded her of her father, of her primary school by the landing docks, of careless summer days at the beach.

Soon she would probably find herself on a starship or a remote starbase, trapped in a manmade cocoon of metal, aluminum glass, and energy fields. The edges of her mouth twisted into an expression that was something halfway between a smile and a frown. She looked at her feet, kicked off her shoes, and turned left for the nostalgia of the open water.

Her mind surveyed future possibilities with the same tenuous excitement that she'd felt four years ago when she left Kenya. Where would she be assigned? She'd listed the _USS Enterprise_ as her top choice of posting, but now that was where Spock was going. _Spock_. What a thing to think about in the grand scheme of things.

It was no secret that Starfleet was not kind to relationships, romantic or otherwise – people moved and transferred all the time. Service in Starfleet reduced all but the most steadfast lovers to a series of transient flings and affairs.

Though she was willing to admit she was developing feelings for her former advisor, she wasn't willing to toss away her future before it ever even started just to chase after some guy. Her career had to come first, no matter what. But if he was going to be the first officer of _Enterprise_ and she just so happened to get assigned to the same ship, then what?

Then _nothing_ , probably, because there wasn't much evidence he would ever return her feelings. _Feelings_ were the whole reason he'd stopped working with her. She was too emotional.

She gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes as her thoughts and memories mingled with her feelings. She watched her bare feet slap on the pavement, observing the grooves in the concrete and the curved lines of the curb.

 _No,_ actually _._ During their short, private conversation at dinner, he'd tried to correct her when she accused him of ditching her because of her emotionality. What _had_ he said?

"Cadet Uhura?"

She froze, allowing her eyes to drift from her feet to the familiar Vulcan, who waiting alone at a shuttlebus stop.

"Commander Spock," she said, thankful her voice remained steady.

"What has happened to your shoes?"

A shaky laugh escaped her lips and she crossed her arms across her chest, looking down once again at her miserable feet. "They were giving me blisters."

"Perhaps you should invest in socks," he replied.

"Well, they weren't the kind of shoes you wear with socks," she explained, starting to feel a bit foolish.

No doubt Vulcan footwear was like everything else in the Vulcan tradition – efficient, bland, and logical.

"Well, _anyway_ ," she mumbled. "Um, I wanted to thank you for dinner."

"You already offered your gratitude."

"I mean I want to _really_ thank you. I know you weren't exactly expecting me to crash your dinner with your mom, but if it means anything, I actually had a pretty good time."

She noticed him tuck his hand into his left pocket and for a moment, his casual pose almost gave him a human appearance.

" _Crash a dinner_ – could you explain the meaning of the phrase?"

" _Oh_ ," she chuckled. "It means to invite yourself to something or show up unannounced."

"My mother invited you," he reminded. "She also enjoyed your company."

His _mother_ enjoyed her company. Had he?

"Yeah, she was very nice," Nyota admitted. "Look, I really need to-"

A shuttlebus pulled up to the curb and the hiss of the hydraulic doors masked her voice. Spock took two steps toward the vehicle, pausing to observe her. She was considering blowing off her impromptu beach plans to follow him when he said, "This shuttle goes back to campus."

"Yeah, I know. I was actually heading down to the beach," she mused, considering the bus.

Spock's posture stiffened as his eyes shifted from her to the transport shuttle. "At this late hour?"

"Well, it's-"

" _Are you coming_?" the operator shouted.

"I guess I can go back to campus," she said, taking several swift steps in his direction. "I was kind of hoping to talk to you, if that's ok."

"I would not object to travelling to the beach, if that was your intended destination," he replied. "Unless you preferred to make the pilgrimage alone."

"I'd be happy for the company," she confessed, cringing a little at how smitten the words sounded as they rolled from her tongue.

" _Look, I'm trying to keep to a schedule_!" the driver shouted.

Spock tucked his hands behind his back and said, "Thank you, but I do not believe we require your services. I apologize for the inconvenience."

"Eh, _whatever_ ," the man grumbled, slamming the doors shut in Spock's face.

They were alone again, but the paradigm had changed. For the first time, they had both voluntarily consented to exist in the other's presence without some outside force – a shuttle crash, a thesis, a rainstorm, a lost wallet, or a curious parent – acting as a catalyst. Her heart thumped a little harder and she balled her fists, caught between a laugh and a moan.

They observed each other for several seconds before she uncrossed her arms, pointed over his shoulder, and declared, "Well, the beach is that way."

He canted his head and waited for her to walk past him before stepping off alongside her. "What did you wish to discuss with me?"

Oh right. _That_. He sure wasn't one to dance around an issue. She would have preferred to work her way up to the uncomfortable parts, so rather than blurt it all out and make this the most awkward visit to the beach in history, she dodged. "I didn't mean to tell your mother about your new assignment. I hope I didn't make things weird between you."

"She would have learned the truth eventually."

" _Right_ , but it wasn't my news to tell. I'm sorry."

"I accept your apology," he replied. "Though I am interested to know how you came by that knowledge."

"Uh… _well_ , my roommate told me this morning. I don't know how _she_ found out, but she has a knack for sniffing out information."

Spock said nothing. She was moving a bit slower without shoes and noticed he'd shortened his step to keep pace with her. Each step in silence grew more awkward and her mind grasped for things to say when Spock decided to break the silence.

"It is curious you would choose to visit the beach at this hour of day, during this season of year."

"Yeah, I guess it is," she smiled. "But it reminds me of home."

"I recall you said you were from Nairobi. Is that not in central Kenya?" Nyota smiled. He had a good memory, not to mention a surprising grasp of Terran geography.

"I lived there for a while and went to secondary school there, but my family is originally from Mombasa. It's a port city in the south of Kenya."

"I see."

"What about you? What reminds _you_ of home?"

"Specify."

"Is there anywhere nearby that makes you feel like you're at home on Vulcan?"

"In my second year at the Academy, I attended a two week survival training course in the nearby Mojave Desert. It bore a number of similarities to Vulcan's Forge."

"Isn't Death Valley in the Mojave Desert?"

"Yes, it is, though we were camped south of there."

"So _Death Valley_ reminds you of home?"

"That is the most obvious logical inference, yes."

She reconsidered her earlier position on Spock's mother. Amanda wasn't remarkable. The woman was practically a _hero_.

"Will you permit me to ask a personal query?"

How strange that the smoothness of his voice and the innocence of his question could make her feel so nervous. "Yeah, sure."

"Why do you wish to be reminded of home?"

"Doesn't everyone miss home from time to time?"

"Longing for a geographical location is illogical."

"Home is more than just a place," she asserted. "It's the people and the feelings-" She caught herself before he could hurl more accusations of illogic at her. "I want to be reminded of home because…"

She began chewing on her bottom lip and stopped herself, as she wished to preserve an outward appearance of calm.

"Because I'll be leaving Earth in a few months and they don't have oceans on starships," she finished. It was the least emotional way she could think to phrase it, but it still probably sounded silly.

"There are numerous Starfleet positions available on Earth or on planets that have large bodies of water."

"I didn't put down any planetary assignments," she admitted.

"I see."

She hadn't really thought about it. Graduating cadets listed five preferences for assignment from a personalized list drafted by Starfleet Personnel Resources. Personnel resource officers made their decisions through a complex system based on class rank, duty restrictions, family and medical concerns, areas of specialty, and special skill identifiers.

She was currently fourth in her class, top in her major, and had no family or medical concerns that might restrict her assignment, so she thought she stood a decent chance of getting one of her very top choices. Since _Enterprise_ appeared on her list of options, she knew there were junior communication officer positions availableon that ship, but there was a chance they required some special identifier she didn't have, such as the ability to speak a certain language or have a specific advanced degree.

Her other choices included the _USS Avenger_ , a long range, heavily armed vessel responsible for intra-Federation anti-smuggling operations, the _USS Interceptor_ , a _Predator_ -class destroyer on a rotating mission to patrol near the Klingon border at Parchuk IX, Starbase 23, an outpost near the Romulan Neutral Zone, and Starbase 24, an station near the Klingon border.

Given her grades and skillset, she'd assumed it was a guarantee she would end up at one of her five picks. Her choices were ambitious though, and at the recommendation of Academy advisors, most cadets included one or two "safety" assignments. Self-doubt crept in. What if she ended up sorting mail at Utopia Planitia or on Mars, dispatching transport vessels in the Sol system?

The sounds of the ocean grew louder, forcing a thin smile to form on her lips. They wound their way down a subtle stone ramp with a high wall and emerged onto a concrete portico with a view of a black ocean aglow with the blue light of a nearly full moon. The waves kissed the sand, leaving crooked foam trails in their retreat. The beach was empty. A sharp wind slapped at her cheeks, causing her to shiver, but she'd come this far and wasn't ready to turn around just yet.

"This is what your home is like?" Spock asked.

The rupture of the silence made her nervous again. She shook her head, explaining, "Home is a cerulean ocean with white, sandy beaches, coconut palms, and the screams of petrels and cormorants."

She worked up the courage to look at him, noting in the dim light of the lamps mounted on the rear wall that the tips of his ears and nose were greenish from the icy wind. If he was cold, he certainly wasn't saying anything about it.

"Do you want to go down to the water?" she asked.

"If you like."

They walked about fifty meters along the sandy beach until they came to a short boulder with a smooth surface. She scaled it and sat down, hugging her knees to her chest to gaze out across the bay. The lights of the Golden Gate Bridge shone in the distance, and the moon overhead gave just enough light to see clearly.

Spock took a seat next to her in a kneeling position, close, but not close enough to touch her. His spine formed a rigid line from his skull to his pelvi, and his head and eyes were locked straight ahead. He almost looked like he was at a job interview or a disciplinary hearing.

The wind forced her to turn her face toward him; otherwise her loose hair would swirl and slap her face. He sensed her eyes upon him and turned his head in her direction, but she was too slow to look away.

"Can I ask _you_ a personal question, sir?"

"Certainly."

"Why did you agree to come to the beach?"

"You indicated you wished to speak with me."

"Right, but it wasn't an _emergency_. We could have talked about it on the bus or in your office on Monday."

"I have never been to the beach," he replied. "I was intrigued."

" _Never_? Not once?"

"My answer to your redundant question has not changed. I have observed oceans from a distance or seen them from an aerial vantage point, but never in person."

"Well, you picked a terrible time to come," she grinned. "It's cold, windy, and dark."

"The lights of the city are aesthetically pleasing," he contended, glancing at the bridge to their right.

"I guess I can't argue that."

They watched the bridge for a time, observing a processional of vehicles flow in and out of the city and an occasional boat drift through the bay. It almost would have been peaceful, if she weren't sitting on a bundle of untold feelings and unasked questions.

She finally announced, "I just wanted-" at the same time he said, "I wish to-"

"You go ahead," she breathed.

"I believe it is more appropriate to defer to you, as it was you who requested the conference."

" _Ugh_ , ok," she moaned, squinting her eyes against the wind. "So, I- the thing is-"

Her voice faded into the chilly breeze and she began to feel like an idiot. She never used to have a problem voicing her opinion or asking him questions. Nyota wasn't sure what exactly she wanted to say. She wanted an answer once and for all about why he dropped her as his student, but a tiny, silly, _insane_ part of her wanted to admit her feelings for him. No, that would be ridiculous.

She still had four months left at the Academy and life would be very difficult dodging him for that long after she poured out her heart and had him respond with, " _Your feelings are illogical_." Maybe some feelings were just meant to remain unsaid and unrequited.

Despite the obvious discomfort of the weather, his expression was the same neutral, patient one he always wore. She licked her dry lips and blurted, "I listed _Enterprise_ as my first choice of assignment. But that was _weeks_ ago, before I even knew you were going to be the first officer."

"Do you imply you do not want to serve aboard a vessel where I am first officer?"

"No, _I_ don't really care one way or the other." That was a lie.

"I respect you as a Starfleet officer and as a person," she continued. "It's just that I don't think you want to be around _me_. Something to do with my emotions."

"You misunderstand," he said, his speech slow and deliberate.

She waited an appropriate five seconds before asking, "What don't I understand?"

"I am not certain it is appropriate to discuss at this juncture."

"Why's that?"

He hesitated and said, "I have no wish to interfere in your interpersonal relationships."

No, that wasn't cryptic at _all_. Was he talking about Jeremy? Gaila? Her new advisor, Lieutenant Bautista?

"Could you be a little more specific? Or to take a page out of your book –  _specify_."

His face was still canted in her direction but his eyes were focused on her feet. He needed a push.

"Is this about Gaila?" she asked, though she had a wild feeling it was about Jeremy.

"No, it concerns Cadet Weber."

 _Bingo_.

" _He's_ … not really a concern of mine."

The last part of her sentence slurred together into a single syllable, causing her to swallow and look down at her knees.

"Clarify."

"He stood me up," she admitted. "I was at the restaurant when he called at the last minute and canceled our plans. It was actually your mom – a total stranger at the time – who was trying to make me feel better, but the truth is, I didn't feel that _bad_."

Her eyes wandered to his hands. They were folded neatly in his lap, but the index finger of his right hand was twitching. It was weird discussing her romantic life with him, but she wanted to get that fact out there: Jeremy was long gone. Boldness washed over her, and she said, "Commander Spock-"

"When I said I no longer wished to be your advisor anymore because it was a matter of emotions, I was referring to _my_ emotions."

Her words froze in her throat while her mind took time to process his statement.

"I- I didn't think you _had_ emotions," she stammered.

"A common misconception," he explained. "Vulcans possess the same capacity for emotion as most other species, we simply choose to repress our emotions with logic."

Her cheeks were burning and her thoughts were numb. What was he saying?

She dared herself to look in his eyes but panicked. Her gaze stalled at his chin instead. She could see the corners of his mouth twitching. Was he _nervous_? Maybe he was just cold.

He began to rise to his feet. She threw her hands behind her to scramble to a standing position and found herself off balance, causing her to fall face first toward his stomach. He caught her by the elbow but quickly retracted his hand. What was her _problem_? She wasn't clumsy by nature. She had blamed the stilettos for her last awkward stumble in the hallway of her dorm, but what was her excuse now that she had bare feet?

"Perhaps we should leave," he said, taking a step back.

"I have feelings for you," she blurted.

The words fell out of her mouth and lingered in the night air like the mist swirling up from the waves hitting the rocks. She wished there were a way to slurp the confession back into her mouth like it had never happened. His stony face considered her at length and she felt the blood running from her face.

" _Someone say something_ ," cried a desperate voice inside her.

Her breath started to catch in her chest and as the silence dragged on, she felt compelled to turn and stare at the ocean in numb mortification. His inept lips met her face at the intersection of her mouth and cheek. His skin was icy but his breath was sweet. As her lips pressed down to return the badly landed kiss, he pulled away, leaving her to stare at him with impressed shock.

"I… regret-" he mumbled.

" _Nothing_ ," she finished boldly, joining their lips again.


	13. It Appears We are in Agreement

The heat radiating from her face felt exotic and pure and the subtle saline quality of her lips made him reluctant to part from her. His hands found her elbow joints and wound down her forearms over the crests of her wrists until they discovered her hands. His fingertips traced along the knuckles of her forefingers, garnering a curious response from her.

She spread her tongue across the part in his lips and they became linked even more intimately. As his fingers embraced hers with increasing fervor, her tongue grew bolder. The pleasant sensation of the ozh'esta and the novel experience of exploring her mouth induced a physical response in him he hadn't anticipated. When he finally drew away, the expression on her face was unrecognizable. He could see the whites of her eyes and the trembling of her chin with unusual clarity.

"Well, that was…" she mumbled, popping her mouth open to inhale a series of deep breaths.

He couldn't precisely identify the instinct that had driven him to kiss her the first time, but the momentary loss of his faculties was unsettling. He had acted on impulse. He had acted illogically.

She reached for his hand and the enjoyable experience of ozh'esta resumed, but the hesitation in her touch was difficult to qualify. She seemed to be seeking reassurance, and he was uncertain how to provide her with that.

"So what now?" she asked.

"I do not know."

"I guess I shouldn't have done that," she mumbled, her voice barely discernable over a sudden gust of salty, ocean air.

"No," he attempted to explain.

"But you kissed me first. I didn't-"

"Allow me to finish," he interrupted. "I do not regret what has transpired between us if you do not."

"I don't either if _you_ don't," she huffed.

"Then it appears we are in agreement."

" _Good_."

"Your tone is indicative of annoyance."

"I'm not annoyed, I'm… I don't know what I am," she breathed, sitting down on the smooth boulder.

Spock sat next to her, closer this time. Their shoulders touched and he could feel her staggered breathing and gentle quivering. The extremities of his face were now completely numb, but he was willing to endure the discomfort.

"Will you clarify your earlier statement?" he asked.

" _What_?"

"You said you had feelings for me."

He watched her eyes pull into a sharp squint before closing. She tilted her chin down and in his direction and said, "I have feelings for you. _Romantic_ feelings."

"I see."

"You _see_?" she scoffed, opening her eyes. "You just admitted to bailing as my advisor because of your emotions. Could you clarify _that_?"

Her combative tone was perplexing. He sensed her muscles stiffen and her breathing grow languid, but he continued to stare straight ahead as he explained, "I return your romantic feelings."

" _Oh_."

The silence resumed, drowned out by the crashing of water and whistle of the ocean breeze in his ears. Her body rocked against his – she was snickering.

"What is the source of your amusement?"

" _You_."

"Explain."

Her casual laughter rolled into a crescendo of uncontrollable giggling. She clutched her belly with both hands and took in a series of deep breaths, and when she looked at him again, her anxiety had evaporated into a sparkling smile.

"I can't believe you kissed me."

Spock had spent enough years in the company of humans to know they had an obsession with hyperbole, so he knew she wasn't suggesting she literally found his actions beyond belief. Was she implying she was merely shocked by his advance, or something else?

"I never would have thought you to be the one to make the first move," she explained.

"Have I offended you in some way?"

" _No_ ," she retorted. "It was just a surprise. A _good_ surprise."

"I see."

"Did me kissing you back offend _you_?"

"No."

"Can I ask you something?"

"I presume you mean an additional question beyond the one you just asked."

"Ugh, _yes_ ," she grumbled. "Never mind, I'll just ask. What was that thing you did with your hands?"

"It is a practice among my people called ozh'esta," he replied.

She leaned back onto her elbows to peer at the night sky. Her teeth dragged along her bottom lip before her head rolled back in his direction. "A finger embrace?"

"That is a fitting translation."

"Ok, but what _is_ it? It felt… _weird_ ," she mused, before adding, "In a good way."

"It is performed between bondmates as a display of affection."

"So it's like kissing for Vulcans?"

"Not precisely. My species also engages in kissing to a limited extent as a private display of affection between bondmates," Spock explained. "Ozh'esta is something apart."

She sat up and crossed her legs, shifted her body to face him, and extended her hands to him, palms upward. He considered the gesture, finding it almost reverent, and met the first two fingers of his left hand with her right.

She shuddered but did not pull away, choosing to watch their interaction with dogged intensity. He drew invisible circles around her delicate joints of her fingers, enjoying the warmth of her touch. For Spock the intimacy of the act generated a subdued sensation of comfort and euphoria, and the longer they remained in contact, the more relaxed he became. She held her breath, transfixed by the instinctive movements of their hands.

When she eventually pulled away, her eyes locked with his and she clasped his left hand between both of hers. "Your hands are freezing."

"My hands are merely cold," he corrected. "The freezing point of body tissues is approximately that of water, and I believe the current-"

Another kiss interrupted his scientific explanation about how wind velocity lowered air temperature and increased the rate of heat loss on objects. She took his free hand and held that one too, transferring the heat from her own body to his. Vulcans had a higher euthermic temperature than humans, but were not as adept at regulating their body temperature. Her hands were not much warmer than his, but he took pleasure in holding them all the same.

"Do you want to go somewhere warmer?" she asked.

"Has your nostalgia for home subsided?"

She barked a candid laugh and craned her neck to look out over the ocean. "I haven't been thinking about it much, to be honest with you. Come on, let's go."

She stood and leapt from the rock onto the sandy ground, turning to watch his descent. As they began their trek back to the stone steps, she asked, "So why did you _really_ agree to come to the beach with me?"

He had followed her here despite the chilly weather upon recalling Captain Pike's suggestion to "find a girl and take her for a walk on the beach" as a means for procuring a mate. There had been nothing about large bodies of water of Cadet Gaila's checklist of courtship rituals, but he'd long ago abandoned trying to determine a pattern in the ambiguous, arbitrary, vague, and generally flawed criteria.

"I was sincere when I said I had never been to the beach," he admitted. "But I also wished to spend additional time in your company."

She offered a thin smile and crossed her arms close to her chest. "I'm glad you came."

"As am I."

Her smile widened and her eyes grew brighter. "I sort of miss having you as an advisor."

"Is Lieutenant Bautista inadequate for the task?"

"No, but we don't have the same interesting discussions and arguments that you and I used to."

"My decision to cease advising you stemmed from my desire to avoid the appearance of any impropriety. I was willing to admit my affection for you, but the nature of our previous arrangement put me in a coercive position over you, and I had wished to avoid that."

"I understand that _now_ , and it makes sense, but I think maybe you should have led with the feelings part."

"That would have been illogical and counterproductive to allowing you to make an independent decision if I was still acting as your advisor," he argued. "Perhaps you should not have been so emotional and listened to the entirety of my statement before rushing to a conclusion."

She glared at him and her mouth popped open with a ready retort, but she sighed and gave a single nod of her head.

"What made you want to tell me you liked me?" she asked, hunching her shoulders forward and craning her neck to observe his reaction.

"I did not intend to ever reveal my affection for you," he admitted. "But when I discovered you knew of the contents written on my planning board, it became the most logical option."

She laughed in an unusual pitch, hunching her shoulders further and staring at her bare feet. "About that – I wasn't _trying_ to spy on you. I _promise_. I just leaned against it and it turned on. How did you know?"

"I never turn the board off manually. As you are the only individual who has ever visited my private quarters in the faculty building, it was only logical to conclude you were the culprit."

"So how do you turn it off?"

"Simply tap the screen twice."

"Are you _kidding_ me?"

"No."

She buried her face in her hands, dragging her fingers along her cheeks with enough force to distort her facial features. "Well, this is embarrassing."

"Embarrassment is illogical."

"Maybe to _you_ , but as far as I can tell, embarrassment is one of those social tools that keeps people from doing all kinds of inappropriate things."

"An interesting argument, but embarrassment is an emotion, and emotions, though they may on occasion have positive attributes, are still illogical."

"So you weren't at all embarrassed when you realized I found your – what was it – your flowchart?"

"Its discovery was unfortunate."

"Yeah, no kidding," she groaned. " _Your_ discovery of Gaila's list felt pretty mortifying to me."

"That was also not deliberate," he rushed to explain. "I did not intend to read your private correspondence-"

"But obviously you _did_."

Her face relaxed and her eyebrows bounced upward. Was she angry? 

"Cadet Gaila failed to power down a laboratory computer terminal. As I was rectifying her error, I happened to observe the message screen."

"You could have closed it and moved on," she replied. "But you're _nosy_."

The stern tone of her voice implied anger. "I apologize. I was curious."

"It's the same thing," she laughed. "I'm not _angry_ , exactly. I guess I think it's funny that Vulcans are probably just nosy as the rest of us, but you refuse to admit it."

"I have no intention of continuing to defend my actions," he replied. "They are indefensible."

She shot him another surprised look and stopped at the base of the wide stone stairs. She turned to study his face, and at that distance, the difference in their relative sizes was readily apparent. When standing straight, the top of her head would barely brush the bottom of his chin.

Her eyes were dark but full of fascination. Her top row of teeth began teasing her bottom lip, and something about this action caused him to draw closer to her. He tilted his chin down – their faces were nearly touching. She stood on her toes and brushed her lips over his again to deliver a chaste kiss.

He pulled back and glanced around. The lamps mounted into the high stone walls cast a bright yellow light over them, and though there was no one in sight, engaging in such a public display of affection was improper.

"So what do we do now?" she asked.

"You suggested going somewhere warmer."

She rolled her eyes and moaned, pointing to the building at the top of the stairs. "I think the observatory is open."

They climbed together without speaking and when they reached the top, she hesitated and pulled her shoes from her bag. She rested her hand on his shoulder for balance to brush the sand from her feet, put on her shoes, and together they walked inside.

He appreciated the warm relief of the building's environmental controls, but after a few moments, the tips of his ears and nose began to sting. The observatory possessed a long row of glass panels for optimal viewing of the ocean, but the bright overhead lights cast a glare and obscured their view of the outdoors. There were several monitors mounted on a back wall, full of information relating to local marine life and conservation efforts.

They found their way to a bench in the corner. She sat down, leaned against the wall, and smiled. He took a seat, and she rolled her head to observe him. "You know, when I asked, 'what do we do now?' I really meant in a broader sense."

"Starfleet's fraternization policy states ' _direct_ student-teacher relationships within Starfleet Academy and other training organizations' is prohibited," he explained. "Yet the wording of the policy is vague. You are no longer my student."

"You're still a member of the faculty," she argued. "And I'm still a cadet."

"For another three months and 29 days."

He considered Lieutenant Akamatsu's words, implying fraternization was more common at Starfleet Academy than most people suspected. Lieutenant Akamatsu's relationship with Lieutenant Nowak was proof of that.

Nyota closed her eyes and snickered, turning her head forward again. "So you're suggesting we could establish – how did you say it – a close, personal relationship on a technicality?"

"Vulcans admire and embrace technicality."

"Unfortunately humans aren't so eager to do the same," she explained, opening her eyes and sitting up. "You're one of the most interesting people I've ever met and I want to get to know you better, but I don't want to damage my career. Or _yours_."

"A wise resolution," he agreed.

"Though I guess if we were _really_ careful," she mumbled. "Ugh, I don't know."

"I believe with a sufficient amount of discretion we could easily avoid discovery," he offered.

An incredulous look spread over her face, and she returned to chewing on her bottom lip. "It still seems kind of risky."

"No decision is without some element of risk," he countered.

"Brilliant Vulcan logic strikes again," she mused.

"You claimed you were interested in getting to know me; I am interested in learning more about you as well."

Spock thought of his mother's vokaya amulet in his pocket. Amanda had given him her cherished necklace to present to his future mate following their dinner with Cadet Uhura. He did not know Cadet Uhura well enough to declare her a suitable lifelong partner for himself, but he certainly was interested in investigating the matter.

"Your silence suggests you require additional time to deliberate my proposal," he said after nearly a minute had transpired.

"I'm not sure," she said, her dark eyes acquiring a serious quality. "What if we hit it off, then I graduate and we end up on opposite sides of the quadrant?"

"As I said, no decision is without some element of risk," he reminded her. "It is impossible to know the future, but I am content to get to know you in the present."

Her brow furrowed and a small smile escaped her lips. "So how do we go about having the most discreet, secret, inconspicuous relationship to ever occur within the walls of Starfleet Academy?"

He considered her question and thought of Lieutenant Akamatsu again. She had been shocked when Spock had allowed Cadet Uhura up to his quarters, but had also thought the idea of him seducing a cadet was outlandish. It _was._

Being Vulcan leant him a significant amount of credibility because so many people wrongly assumed Vulcans were incapable of lying, but it was not something he wished to abuse. As a Vulcan, he believed himself capable of maintaining professional impartiality regardless of the circumstances. He understood why fraternization policies existed for emotionally charged species, but both favoritism and pettiness were illogical. He had no intention of showing Cadet Uhura preferential treatment, and if she chose to end their relationship, he had no intention of using his position to punish her.

He still understood that to humans, the _appearance_ of impropriety was nearly as damning as an act of impropriety, so in order to avoid suspicion, they would simply have to define what proper conduct was and exemplify that behavior in public.

"Any ideas?" she murmured.

"Perhaps it would be best if we avoided meeting in public," he suggested.

"Ok then, so should I meet you in your quarters in the faculty building, or do you want to come hang out in my dorm? I'm sure my roommate would be positively tickled."

He gave her a pointed look. "I should have been more specific. We should avoid meeting on campus."

"But going out of your way to avoid someone – that can look weird too," she argued.

"I haven't encountered you on campus in the last two weeks and as far as I'm aware, no one has accused us of having an illicit relationship."

She leaned forward and rested her hands on her knees. "But we weren't having an _illicit relationship_ then."

"You suggest that the existence of a more intimate relationship between us is cause enough for you to behave differently."

"I think the key is to just go about our lives and act like we did before," she explained.

"Expound."

"I don't know," she moaned, leaning back against the wall again. "I never thought anything of you until the shuttle crash. After that, I respected the hell out of you and wanted your approval, which was why I asked you to be my thesis advisor. Then I found myself getting caught up in conversations with you – honestly, I'm surprised people didn't think we were dating back _then_."

"You sought my approval?"

"Yeah, don't let it go to your head," she grumbled, crossing her arms.

"You've always had my approval," he explained.

"Then why did you end up tearing the introduction of my thesis apart? Why-"

"I have no interest in discussing your thesis with you," he interjected. "I am no longer your advisor and you are no longer my student. That is a critical element of this arrangement. I do not intend to offer you any educational or professional advice."

"Right, _right_ ," she sighed, her facial features hardening. "Ok, so no talking about anything that goes on at the Academy. Sounds fair. But that still doesn't answer the question of how we go about making this 'arrangement' work."

"You suggest we shouldn't avoid each other because that will rouse too much suspicion, but I still maintain we should avoid deliberately meeting on the Academy campus, as well as other locations students and faculty are known to frequent."

"Ok," she shrugged. "Seems _logical_. So where do you propose we meet? And when?"

He considered her question. "I am open to suggestion."

"There's a vegetarian bistro out in Ocean View that isn't too bad. What are you doing tomorrow?"

"I have a number of reports due and papers to review before Monday," he said.

It was regrettable he'd spent most of yesterday in meditation, but it had been necessary. He would have much upon which to meditate this evening as well.

"And I'm busy all week. I have two exams and I need to start preparing for my final training exercise next month. Are you free next Saturday?"

"I am."

"See you for lunch then?"

"As I believe is customary to say – it's a date."

She flashed her teeth into an incredulous smile and began to laugh and covered her mouth with her hand and glanced upward. "This is unreal."

"I do not take your meaning."

She twisted her neck to look at him and announced, "I'm going on a date. With _Commander Spock_."

"While I urge you to continue to follow standard Starfleet customs and courtesies, I would prefer you call me Spock in private," he said.

"Trying to avoid the technicality of the whole teacher/student thing still, huh?" she teased.

"In a manner of speaking."

She bit back another grin. "Fine then. Call me Nyota."


	14. Interference

How had it come to this? Nyota hauled herself up the stairs to her dorm room, almost refusing the believe the events of the past few hours. For nearly the hundredth time since saying goodbye to Spock at the shuttlebus stop a block away from campus, a grin inched its way onto her face and she laughed under her breath.

In the span of five hours, she'd gone from being stood up on a date to having dinner with Commander Spock and his mother, and then to becoming Commander Spock's – correction, _Spock's_ – girlfriend. She laughed harder and muttered aloud, "What have I done?"

She'd heard theories about alternate and mirror universes in her theoretical physics courses and now she found herself wondering if she'd somehow stumbled into one. She'd been so certain she'd done something to offend him or annoy him, even though offense and annoyance didn't seem very Vulcan. But no, as it turned out, he just liked her too. Still she wondered if there was some definitive way to tell if she had slipped from her own reality into some parallel existence.

She hesitated outside her room, pressing her ear up to the door. She'd walked in on Gaila in the throes of sexual passion before and wasn't eager to revisit that embarrassment.  _Silence_. Seemed safe enough.

But no, not _really_ safe. Gaila would _know_. Gaila would read her like a green Sherlock Holmes the moment she stepped through the door. Orions had incredible olfactory senses – what if she _smelled_ like Spock? She held her shirt to her face and inhaled. She smelled like… nothing in particular. But she also had the incompetent nose of a human.

She had been too busy trying to wrap her mind around the events of the past few hours that she never even thought about her roommate. Gaila was bound to figure it out, and probably sooner rather than later. That wouldn't be such a big deal if she thought she could trust Gaila to keep a secret, but her track record on secrets was far from flawless.

Nyota knew it was nothing personal; they just had very different viewpoints on personal privacy and Gaila occasionally forgot she wasn't living in a community of tightly knit Orion women anymore. No one could actually say that Orion women gossiped, because they lived their lives so openly and without shame within their private social circles. Where Gaila came from, everyone knew everything about everyone else, and that was considered normal.

So while she was certain she could trust Gaila not to tell everyone about her prohibited relationship with a faculty member, she wasn't sure if she could trust her to keep it _entirely_ to herself either. She might tell one of her other close friends or boyfriends, and there was no telling what those people might do with that kind of information. She rested her forehead on the wall and closed her eyes. Dating Spock was such a bad idea. How could they possibly think no one would find out?

Nyota weighed her options, realizing that she could stand in the hallway all night, find somewhere else to sleep, or just get it over with. She sighed, swiped her access card in the door, and found Gaila lying on her bed with her arms behind her head, staring up at the ceiling.

"Hi," Nyota said, putting on her best casual face. "How was your night?"

"I think I found the _one_ ," Gaila beamed, rolling over and propping her cheek in her hand.

" _Oh_?"

"He's so much more than I ever thought he would be. I thought he was just pretty to look at, but it turns out his mind is his best feature."

It took Nyota a moment to figure out who Gaila was talking about. "Jim _Kirk_?"

"Yes." The dreamy look spreading across Gaila's face was nauseating, but at least she could relate to the sentiment. She wheeled around to face her nightstand before she also started involuntarily gushing.

"So what did you guys do?" Nyota asked, choosing to keep the conversation centered on her roommate.

"We went to dinner and started talking about programming, then we snuck into one of the labs and played around with some subroutines."

"Really?" Nyota sneered. " _Really_?"

"He's so smart. And his hands…"

"I don't need to hear about where his hands have been," Nyota groaned.

Gaila sighed and flopped onto her back. Nyota sat on the edge of her bed and examined the blisters on her feet, noting she still had bits of sand between her toes. She pursed her lips to avoid smiling and stood to make her way to the bathroom.

"So how was the conference?" Gaila called after her.

"It was good," she called over her shoulder, fumbling under the sink for the small dermal regenerator case. She sat down and pulled her right foot into her lap, gingerly peeling away the torn layer of flesh on her heel.

"I hope you had a good time," Gaila added.

"Sure did."

Nyota gritted her teeth and powered on the dermal regenerator, working it over the raw spots on her feet.

"So how was the _rest_ of your night?" Gaila asked.

Nyota jumped. She hadn't noticed her roommate had taken up a post in the bathroom doorway to watch her patch up her damaged feet.

"It was good." She winced, thinking her voice had a suspicious singsong quality to it.

"How was the beach?"

Her head stayed focused on her feet but her eyes canted upward to observe Gaila's face. It bore an impish expression and was half hidden under her mane of fiery red hair. Gaila glanced at her feet and raised her eyebrows, clearly observing the dusty sand still lingering between her toes and in her nail beds.

"It was fine."

"It was _good_ , it was _fine_ ," Gaila mocked, rolling her eyes. "Give me details."

"We went to the beach and talked."

"About _what_?" Gaila immediately rejoined.

"Stuff."

"What kind of _stuff_?"

Nyota saw the fine line of ambiguity growing thinner with each word she spoke and wondered if Gaila already knew and just enjoyed making her sweat or if she was fishing for information. She'd hadn't _lied_ yet, she just hadn't told Gaila she'd been at the beach with Spock instead of Jeremy. She tilted her chin down to better observe her progress with the dermal regenerator, biting hard into the tip of her tongue.

"I'm waiting," Gaila chimed.

"We talked about the future of our relationship."

"And about how great it's going to be when you're both assigned to _Enterprise_ , riding happily ever after into the great beyond of unexplored space?" Gaila clutched her chest in a way that reminded her of an overly dramatic rendition of a Shakespearean romance.

Nyota's eyes narrowed as she switched feet, taking great care to peel the dead skin from the back of her left heel. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes you do."

She made the mistake of making eye contact. Gaila's face sparkled with mischief.

"I should also add, if you're going to find a way to make this work between you and Commander Spock, you need to get a _lot_ better at lying," Gaila quipped.

A warm flush raced across her cheeks. She crinkled her nose and looked away. "How did you know?"

"To be honest, I didn't know for _sure_ – until _now,"_ she replied, a sly smile cresting the corners of her mouth. 

Nyota scoffed. She'd just fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the book. She tossed the dermal regenerator on the tile floor and rubbed her temples.

"Besides, I could smell you the second you walked in the door," Gaila replied, sniffing the air. "Salty, like the beach, but also distinct woody and metallic notes. Bit like Spock."

Nyota shot her a dirty look – the woman was a damn bloodhound. "Gaila, you can't tell anyone. I mean _anyone_. You don't understand-"

"I _do_ , actually. I flirt with a lot of the faculty, but as far as sleeping with them-"

"I haven't had sex with him," Nyota hissed.

"You will," Gaila proclaimed, sliding her back down the wall to sit next to her.

Nyota's cheeks burned hotter, causing her to bury her face in her hands. She couldn't deny she'd wondered what exploring that aspect of a relationship with Spock would be like.

"This isn't just my career; it's _his_ too," she finally said, sitting up to lean back against the wall next to her roommate.

"So how'd you convince him to go for it?"

"He mostly convinced me, actually."

" _What_? You're joking."

"Yeah, you wouldn't believe the night I had."

She related the experience of Jeremy ditching her at the last minute, unknowingly running into Spock's mother, eating with them, and the trip to the beach. Gaila interrupted her periodically by gripping her arm and squealing in delight, and when she was done telling the story, they both leaned their heads against the bathroom wall and started laughing. As her laughs faded into series of low, periodic giggles, she looked at her roommate and said, "I'm really serious, Gaila; you can't tell anyone about this."

"I know."

"No, I mean _anyone_."

"There are things I don't tell you," Gaila mused.

"You tell me _everything_ , including what comes out of your teeth when you floss at night."

"I used to, but not as much anymore," Gaila sighed. "When I first moved to Earth, the idea of women keeping secrets was really weird, just because I was used to living with people who could see right through everything I did or could predict what I was going to do before I even thought of doing it. It's so weird to me that most other species are so dense about the nuances of the lives around them and see secrets as burdens. Orion women don't keep things from each other: it's _impossible_."

"It's not easy, but I've kept secrets from you too," Nyota argued.

"No you haven't."

"You believed me when I said the chrysanthemums were from my mom."

"No I didn't," Gaila scoffed. "I knew they were from Commander Spock, via Commander Riegelman. Her mom's a florist and gives her excess flower arrangements that she pawns off on the rest of the faculty. It was easy enough to deduce she gave them to Spock, who in turn gave them to you because he smelled like flowers during class that day. By the way, she also has a bit of a thing for your pointy-eared boyfriend."

"Who? Commander Riegelman?"

"Yeah. A lot of the women on the faculty do, and a lot of the female cadets too. It's weird if you ask me – no offense – but as far as I know, you're the only one he's ever shown any interest in."

Nyota opened and closed her mouth several times, unsure where to start. "So if you knew the flowers were from Spock, why didn't you say anything?"

"You seemed so moody, but then I found out that was the day he quit as your advisor. I didn't want to upset you."

"Wait – what makes you think he shows any interest in me?" she asked, thinking if Gaila could perceive it so easily, maybe others could too.

"It was right at the start of the term. I went to his office hours but you were already there working on your thesis. Vulcans are so hard to read, but he was looking at you in a way that I'd never seen him look at anyone else. I didn't peg it as romantic at first glance, but then I saw you were looking at him the same way and something clicked."

Gaila's fingers formed into steeples and she nodded thoughtfully. Nyota stared off into space, wondering exactly when her attraction to Spock started.

"If neither of you noticed it, I doubt anyone else will," Gaila added. "But _I_ noticed. I _always_ notice."

"I guess I should say thank you," she told her friend, thinking over the ridiculous checklist that had served as the catalyst for her budding relationship with Spock.

"For getting rid of Jeremy?"

" _What_?"

Gaila pushed herself into a standing position and shrugged.

"What about Jeremy?" Nyota insisted.

"I might have _casually_ mentioned to him that his ex-girlfriend was single again."

" _What_?"

Gaila backed through the door of the bathroom and Nyota scrambled to her feet to race after her. "Why would you interfere in my life that way?"

"Oh come _on_. If he would drop you that quickly to get back with her, he's just as much of an ass as I always said he was."

"That's not the point, Gaila!"

"Everything worked out," Gaila whined. "Jeremy's back with Amy, you're with Spock-"

" _Shhhhh_!" Nyota hissed, staring at the thin walls of their dorm room.

"Be honest: are you really that mad?"

She wanted to be, but not only did she know Gaila meant well, she was also right – it _had_ worked out in her favor.

"Wait, Jeremy's ex-girlfriend is Amy Nguyen," Nyota interjected, feeling the gears of her mind picking up speed.

" _Hmmmm_?"

"Amy Nguyen was dating Adam Hendorff."

"Yes, she _was_."

"I saw them eating lunch together yesterday and they looked pretty happy," Nyota said in a low voice. "Did you-"

"They weren't right for each other either!" Gaila wailed. "Everyone knows Hendorff has a thing for-"

" _Oh my God, Gaila_!"

"I'm just trying to help people see what's best for them and save everyone some heartache."

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Nyota exclaimed, her mouth falling open in shock. "Is there _anyone_ at this Academy whose life you haven't meddled with?"

" _Meddle_ is a strong word. I prefer to think of it as assistance."

Nyota pulled her shirt over her head, tossed it in the laundry basket, and reached for one of the middle drawers to grab an oversized sleep shirt.

"Please don't be mad," Gaila insisted.

"Just tell me this – did you leave our message screen up on purpose for Spock to find?"

" _No_ ," Gaila responded seriously. "That really was an accident."

Nyota crawled under her thick comforter as Gaila shut out the light and started dressing herself for bed. Nyota closed her eyes in the darkness, but her mind was teeming with too many thoughts. She could hear her roommate tucking herself in, and the moment she was settled, Gaila mused, "I'm guessing if you're asking about the checklist, that means Spock found it."

"Yeah, _actually_. That's a whole other embarrassing story."

"Do tell."

"I'm surprised you don't know it already."

"I don't know _everything_."

"Well, he read it and was apparently interested enough in your checklist that he made this whole flowchart to organize the information in a logical way."

"Commander Spock tried to come up with an algorithm for _dating_?" she chortled. " _Ugh_ , that sounds like something he'd do. That is so… _sweet_. In the most Vulcan way."

"Please promise me you won't say anything to anyone."

"Even if I didn't love you like you were my sister, Commander Spock is still one of the best professors here. I want what's best for you: _both_ of you. Otherwise I wouldn't have worked so hard to get you both to see that you're right for each other."

"You think of me like a sister?"

"I always have, silly. You've helped me adjust to this crazy Terran culture, helped me with homework – I really don't know what I would do without you."

Gaila. Sweet, misguided, snooping, meddling, wonderful Gaila. Soon Gaila's snores filled the room, but Nyota didn't care. She laid awake in the dark with her thoughts for hours and eventually grinned herself to sleep.

The next week turned into the kind of week that seemed to both drag on forever and fly past in the blink of an eye. She spent Sunday cramming for Monday's exam in her Leadership Ethics course, worked around the clock to get ahead of the readings in her Senior Interstellar Communication Theory Seminar, and continued to comb through her thesis on frequency harmonics. She was still struggling to collect enough data to demonstrate the functionality of her program and spent several late nights in the lab, scanning various regions of space for specific signals.

On Friday she found out she was assigned to Lieutenant Ahn's team as the communications chief for next month's tactical training exercise. While she was relieved it would be the last major practical evaluation before graduation, she was starting to feel overwhelmed by her workload.

She caught herself thinking of Spock often, but he was no longer a distraction the way he had before. Though she could use the weekend to try and get ahead on her work, the thought of seeing him on Saturday was a light at the end of a tunnel that she desperately needed.

When Saturday finally rolled around, she took extra care in getting dressed, rolling her hair into loose waves like it had been the previous weekend. She put on an older indigo blue and white patterned dress that had sleeves that came just past her elbow and a hemline that fell about ten centimeters above her knee – suggestively short without being _explicitly_ short. She threw on Gaila's dark brown knee-length boots and a goldenrod scarf and studied the result in the mirror.

She looked nice enough, but she wondered if it was worth going through all the trouble. She seriously doubted if Spock was going through a similar exercise of preening himself for her; she expected to find him in the usual dark shirt, dark pants, and severe haircut that made up the essence of his Vulcan being.

She turned to view herself from other angles and decided it mattered a _lot_ , since her choice of dress was flattering to certain areas of her body that she wouldn't mind if Spock happened to notice. She remembered the night outside of the Brass Oyster, feeling humiliated as Spock obviously tried to avoid staring at her in Gaila's skimpy, black, practically-lingerie dress. She unbuttoned several of the cloth buttons at her throat and continued down to her breastbone before deciding she was overthinking it and refastened them.

It took three shuttle transfers to get to the vegetarian bistro in Ocean View, and thanks to several construction delays, she began to worry about being late. Then she remembered it was a _date_ , not a midterm exam. Being a minute or two late wouldn't be the end of the world.

When the last shuttle pulled to a stop, she skipped the last step and gracefully leapt to the curb, rushing in the direction of the restaurant. She could see it up ahead and felt her heart begin to beat a little faster – whether from the exercise or excitement, she really couldn't say – but as she approached the bistro, she realized something was wrong.

She could see him inside by the window with his back to the wall, hands folded neatly across the table, but he was sitting with someone. _A woman_. Though she faced away from Nyota, she knew exactly who it was. Lieutenant Akamatsu.

She took several steps forward, trying to discreetly catch Spock's attention. Though his eyes refused to budge from the lieutenant in front of him, she noted a barely perceptible shake of his head. Something was _very_ wrong.


	15. The Mighty Auroras of Sin City

Spock took a seat by the window and observed the gray skyline of the city through the thick glass pane. He took a sip of his tea, noting it was still approximately five degrees above his preferred temperature for consumption.

He was ten minutes early, but he knew Cadet Uhura – correction, _Nyota_ – abided by the illogical Starfleet policy that if one was not ten minutes early, one was _late_. She had yet to arrive, so he removed his small, private PADD from his pocket, thumbed through the folders, and tied it into his faculty messages. There were three unread.

The first was from Captain Zovosr, director of training and plans at Starfleet Academy. He reviewed the body of the message, noting several attachments for operations orders and addenda for next month's integrated training exercise.

It was a graduation requirement for all senior cadets to pass a final, comprehensive tactical training mission aboard a starship. Unlike previous summer internships where they worked under the close eye of commissioned Starfleet officers, the cadets were entirely on their own for two weeks with only a few senior members of the staff acting as an observer-controller.

Spock had written and planned the wargames for the previous two years, but this year he had been assigned to command the opposition force after a number of cadets had complained the scenarios were too hard and thus, _unfair_. Spock had pointed out that the scenarios were based on actual historical incidents, but several senior faculty members had bowed to pressure to keep grade point averages high.

Spock would never understand the desire to look better in theory than actually _be_ better in reality. He had been fighting artificially inflated senses of self worth his entire time at the Academy, but he was just one person battling an army of senior staffers who preferred impressive resumes to practical experience.

The training exercise was a month away; he could review the information later. The next message was from an unusual sender. _A cadet_. Cadet James T. Kirk was requesting a second attempt at the _Kobayashi Maru_ simulation. _Fascinating_. No one had ever done the simulation twice, at least not during Spock's tenure. As long as it was run to completion, it was impossible to fail, given there was no _correct_ resolution. The _Kobayashi Maru_ was simply a test of character.

Cadet Kirk was on the command track and had never sat in one of Spock's classes, so he knew little about him. His request would require further research. He scanned the room and noted the time on his PADD. 1157 hours, and still no sign of Cadet – correction, _Nyota_.

The third message was from Captain Pike, asking to meet with him at the orbital space dock where the final stages of building would be completed prior to commissioning the vessel. It would require a significant rearranging of his schedule, particularly right before the integrated training exercise, yet he felt compelled to honor the captain's wishes, not only because he knew Pike to be sentimental about such things, but because Spock desired to obtain more familiarity with _Constitution_ -class starships before becoming the first officer of one.

The latter half of Pike's message caught his attention. He was asking Spock to pick "about a dozen" – Pike could be so imprecise – bright cadets for assignment to the _Enterprise_. Personnel resources had been inundated with requests from new cadets and seasoned officers alike for assignments the fleet's new flagship, but starship captains usually had the final authority to accept or refuse incoming personnel. Because a captain's duties were so numerous, most personnel issues were delegated to the first officer, and as Pike logically explained, being a member of the Academy faculty put him in a better position to judge potential cadets for suitability.

He was in the middle of formulating a reply when he heard a familiar voice call his name, and regrettably it did not belong to the woman he'd come here to meet.

"Lieutenant Akamatsu," he said, raising his head to acknowledge her.

His eyes darted around the restaurant and the sidewalk outside – still no sign of Nyota. "Funny seeing you here, Commander." 

"You as well," he remarked. "It is quite far from campus."

"I'm a vegetarian and this bistro is one of the best in town," she explained before pointing to the empty chair across from him. "Mind if I have a seat?"

He minded very much, but could see no obvious way to refuse.

"I was preparing to leave," he explained, stretching the truth as he tucked his PADD back into his pocket.

"But it doesn't look like you've touched your tea," she argued, pointing to the full cup by his left elbow.

"It was not to my liking."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," called a waitress from behind him who had been in the middle of wiping down a nearby table. "I can get you something else, if you want."

"That is not necessary," he replied.

"Really, it's not a big deal," she insisted. "Besides, it's _cold_. Let me at least get you some tea that's hot. If you didn't like this variety, maybe you could try-"

"Thank you, but no. I should go." The waitress looked wounded and stared down at the cup in her hands.

"You may take it," Spock added, wishing both of them would go away.

"Can I just have a minute?" Akamatsu begged.

"I have noted that when people ask for a minute, they really intend to carry on a long conversation that would require far more than a minute of my time."

"I'll make this quick," she pleaded.

Nyota should have already been here by now and Spock could only imagine the consequences if she ran into Akamatsu. He had known Holly Akamatsu for three years, having met her during his first term on the faculty when she was assigned to one of his senior programming labs as a teaching assistant. She had an abnormal interest in the private matters of others, and given she'd already witnessed Nyota coming from his quarters the previous month, he wasn't interested in giving her more information with which to spread gossip.

"Very well," he said, keeping a careful eye on the sidewalk just outside the window.

"So word on the street is, you got tapped to be the first officer of the _Enterprise_ ," she said, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Affirmative."

"My tour at the Academy is done after this term and I've put in my requests, but I was wondering if you could speak to the _Enterprise_ 's captain on my behalf."

"You are asking for a reference?"

"Uh, _yeah_ ," she mumbled. "I've always thought we've gotten along pretty well and you've always given me good performance reviews."

Though his ears listened to her words, his eyes became trained on the sight of Nyota standing tensely on the sidewalk outside, looking anxiously between him and Akamatsu. Certainly she would not think he was pursuing another mate?

She took another step forward and he shook his head as much as he could manage without drawing Akamatsu's attention. Nyota's eyes narrowed, but she turned on her heel and breezed back down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

"Is that a _no_?" she stammered, watching his face.

"I shall take it under advisement," he said, rising from his seat. "Excuse me."

"Did I… do something to offend you, Commander Spock?"

"No, I am merely overdue for a previous engagement."

"Uh, _right_. Well, it was good seeing you, and please- think about it, ok?"

"I shall." He nodded and nearly bumped into the waitress as he headed for the door.

"I brought you a new blend," she said cheerfully, extending a fresh up of tea. "It's a bit less flavorful than the last one."

"Thank you for your consideration, but I really must go," he replied.

He didn't stop to observe the pained look he was sure was spreading across her face. He had not intended to cause her offense, but nor had he asked for another cup of tea. Humans were so illogical.

He pushed his way through light pedestrian traffic, surveying the cityscape for any sign of Nyota. He pulled his small PADD from his back pocket to contact her when he spied her standing in the corner of a shop, back towards him, clutching her bag on her shoulder and staring up at a series of art prints on the wall.

He glanced around to see if Akamatsu had followed him outside and after deciding she had not, he ducked into the dimly lit store. There was an elderly human man perched on a stool in the corner, slumped forward and snoring soundly. Spock navigated his way through shelves of miscellaneous merchandise, ranging from antique paperbound books to shoes that had wheels mounted on the bottoms, but he didn't pause to reflect on the eclectic assortment of items.

"Cadet- _Nyota_?"

She whipped around, eyes wide and searching. Her mouth parted slightly and her arms crossed more tightly across her body.

"So how's- ah- how's Lieutenant Akamatsu?" she asked, turning to look at the posters on the wall once again.

"I arrived early and was sitting alone when she invited herself to sit with me," he clarified, winding his hands around to the small of his back and taking several steps forward.

She didn't reply, but cocked her head in his direction, studying a poster beseeching the observer to "Experience the Mighty Auroras of Jupiter." There were other posters of a similar style, touting the virtues of moons orbiting gas and ice giants in Sol's outer system.

"These are vintage posters from an old Earth space agency," she explained. "They were made at a time when the furthest humans had ever ventured into space was our own moon."

"I am not familiar with Earth's earliest space exploration efforts," he replied, turning his head to observe her.

"It's amazing to think that less than 300 years ago, leaving Earth was something we only dreamt about, and now here I am, standing next to someone who wasn't even born on this planet."

He was uncertain how to respond but couldn't take his eyes from her. She seemed lost in a thought she didn't intend to invite him to experience. She wandered through a doorway into a backroom that contained a wall of musical instruments, tables covered in dishes and other porcelain pieces, and baskets full of children's toys. A musty odor lingered in the air and the floor and walls were covered in threadbare, shiny carpeting.

"What is the function of this shop?" he asked.

"It's a thrift store," she answered, picking up a poorly glazed statuette of an Andorian. "Want this for your place? I think it would really spice up your living room."

The figurine in her hand was a poor imitation of the Andorian form and was missing one of its antennae. He stared at her, attempting to discern whether or not she was joking. " _No_."

She smirked and returned it to the table.

"What is the purpose of a thrift store?"

She made a face and waved her hands around the room. "It's where people come and bring all the stuff from their attics and basements that they don't want anymore to make a little bit of money. Don't they have secondhand stores on Vulcan?"

"There are merchants who trade in antique items, but Vulcans value utility and are not often given to accumulating things they do not need, and thus do not have a need to dispose of that which they no longer want."

She shrugged. "I can see that, sure. A lot of this stuff is junk."

"Why is there flooring material on the walls?" he asked, running his hand along the iridescent fibers on a structural support column.

Her pleasant face contorted into a sneer and she explained, "That was a really popular trend back around the turn of the century. It's tacky, but I guess it's also good for soundproofing."

He continued to browse the room, curious about the dolls piled into bins on the floor. Most were made of fabric, stuffed with soft material, and appeared to be poor representations of Terran animals. As he reached for something that was vaguely analogous to a bear, he heard a single note of a stringed instrument pierce the air.

It reminded him very much of a Vulcan lute, but the tone was deeper. He turned to see her running her fingers along the strings at the neck of the wooden instrument, frowning and smiling simultaneously. He joined her at the wall while she considered a number of other brass and percussive instruments.

"Do you play this instrument?" he asked.

"Ha, _no_ ," she admitted. "My dad always liked the guitar though. Said he liked the way it sounded sad and hopeful at the same time. What about you? Do you play any instruments?"

"My father gave me many hours of instruction on the Vulcan lyre, but I have not played in many years."

"Why?"

"I have not found occasion to."

"That's a shame. I bet you're good at it."

"On what information do you make such an assertion?"

"Because of who you are and what music is."

He considered the meaning of her statement. "Explain."

"Music is… that perfect intersection between art, math, and language," she mused, taking several steps to the right to examine a small, black flute-like instrument more closely.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, causing the hem of her dress to sway along the middle of her thighs in an artistic motion. He moved closer, watching her as she watched a silent formation of musical instruments. She finally allowed her face to drift in his direction and frowned. "What are we doing?"

"Standing in a store with a peculiar assortment of goods for sale," he replied, suspecting her question was rhetorical.

A vivid smile streaked her lips, exposing her white teeth, which she immediately moved to conceal with her hand. "I meant what are we doing pretending like we can keep this a secret from people?"

"I had not anticipated encountering anyone from the Academy so far from campus, but it seems the simplest solution would be to expand our radius."

"What's a safe radius? As I'm sure you know, I'm a cadet with restrictions on where I can go. I can't leave the continent without prior approval from my group leader."

"I am aware, but it is a large continent," he countered. "I believe it is the third largest on this planet."

"Why do you know so much about Terran geography?" she asked, smirking and turning toward him.

"I would not consider myself an expert, but it is easy to estimate the North American continent is the third largest in terms of land mass simply by looking at a map."

She rolled her eyes and sighed a subtle laugh before turning back toward the wall. "So if we agree San Francisco is too risky, where _do_ you want to go?"

"It would be logical to select a location which does not have a large concentration of Starfleet personnel – shipyards, shuttle ports-"

"Agreed," she interrupted. "But I haven't been very many places on this continent that aren't related to Starfleet. Did you have anywhere in mind?"

He had not extensively traveled North America either, but he also rarely traveled _anywhere_ for non-official business. His mother owned a cabin on the far northern part of the continent, but he had never had cause to visit it.

"Have you ever done anything spontaneous?" she blurted.

"Spontaneity implies an act which occurs as a result of a sudden inclination without external stimulus or premeditation," he replied. "I perform many biological functions spontaneously to maintain-"

She took a bold step forward and tilted her face to stare at him. "I know what spontaneous means. What I meant was, have you ever just gone somewhere without a plan?"

"No."

"I believe you," she grinned. "Me either. Anyway, there's an intraplanetary port a few blocks from here. I'm free the rest of the night. Let's get out of San Francisco."

"And go where?"

"Wherever the next shuttle departing for a location on this continent is going."

"You intend to travel to a random destination based on a whim?"

"Not based on a whim," she reminded. "Based on the port's departure schedule."

"A condition that you have chosen at random, thus making it a whim."

"Do you want to just forget this whole thing, you know, trying to get to know each other on a more personal level?"

He wanted to be near her, but questioned her illogical plan as a matter of practicality.

"What if we are not appropriately dressed for the climate?"

"We'll figure it out," she sighed, indifferent to his argument. "Be adventurous."

"One can be both adventurous and reasonable."

"So I'm unreasonable?" she joked, folding her arms across her chest.

"Your plan is certainly unorthodox," he replied. He watch the corners of her mouth turn downward. "However, I am willing to comply."

"Really?"

"I would not have said so if I were not."

" _Good_."

They strolled from the back room and the clicking of Nyota's boots on the tiled floor woke the shop owner from his sleep.

"Can I help you fine folks with something?" he asked.

"No," she murmured. "We were just browsing."

She craned her neck to examine Spock, but her eyes flashed up to the poster she'd been admiring earlier.

"Come on," she added. "Let's go experience the mighty auroras of… somewhere hopefully more interesting than Tulsa."

They stepped out of the shop and proceeded toward the shuttle port, which fortunately was in the opposite direction of the bistro and Lieutenant Akamatsu.

"I have a query," he said as they approached the busy port.

"Query away," she grinned.

"In your roommate's criteria for categorizing meetings as dates, she mentioned it is necessary to determine who is paying if goods and services are being exchanged. Why?"

Nyota uttered a high-pitched laugh. "Well, for Orions, it's considered appropriate for men to buy everything. People on Earth kind of have a similar custom, but it's very old-fashioned."

"So when I purchased a beverage for you last month, did that imply that meeting was a date?"

"No, it just made that meeting really awkward," she admitted, biting down hard on her bottom lip. "I knew you didn't _intend_ it to be a date, but it still looked… you know."

"No, I do not. I seek to understand human courtship practices. That is why I asked."

"Well, there's an idea that men are supposed to be providers for women and even though it hasn't really been that way for a few centuries, people still cling to this ridiculous notion that men should pay for things."

"So I should purchase your fare to our unknown destination?"

" _No_ ," she exclaimed vehemently. "I'm the one who invited you – if anything, _I_ should pay."

"I believe that would be an inequitable burden to place upon you, as I earn a substantially higher income than you."

She gave him a pointed look, turning her eyes upward to look at the rotating shuttle destinations at the port. "It's been a while since I studied Starfleet pay tables, but I agree, you probably _do_. But shuttle fare for an intracontinental flight doesn't cost that much."

She seemed either annoyed or embarrassed, so he replied, "I did not mean to cause offense. I only wish to honor your customs in these matters."

Her expression softened and she considered his face for a long moment before glancing at the ground. "There's no set custom. People just do what works for them."

"And I am more than willing to provide for your expenses during the time we spend together."

"But I don't _need_ you to," she snapped, before taking a deep breath to add, "People say we're going to have a currency-free society one day, but I have no idea how that would work. In the meantime, it's still a bit awkward to talk about money."

"Awkwardness is illogical."

"Not to _me_. Awkwardness is the theme of the day for the cadet who's dating her former advisor."

"Then would you prefer to pay?"

"What if we just paid for ourselves for now?" she shrugged.

"That is acceptable."

" _Good_. Now let's figure out where we're going and maybe on the way there we can have some even more uncomfortable discussions about gender roles and dating expectations."

How illogical that a practical and logistical discussion about financial burdens would cause her such annoyance. He followed her inside the terminal to a long counter where a short line of people shuffled forward to available automated ticketing machines. Nyota stood on her toes to read over the shoulder of the man in front of them and her eyes grew wide.

"So you're really up for taking the next available shuttle to wherever?" she asked, shooting him a sidelong glance.

"I believe I have already explained my reservations and agreed despite them."

"You're really ready to go anywhere?"

" _Anywhere_ is an imprecise idea-"

"Ok, by 'anywhere,' I mean Las Vegas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for the chapter title and the posters Nyota is staring at in the thrift shop comes from an actual series of free posters called [**Visions of the Future**](http://www.jpl.nasa.gov/visions-of-the-future/), designed by NASA and CalTech's Jet Propulsion Laboratory.


	16. The Hard Way

Less than an hour later, they stepped off the shuttle into a brightly lit Las Vegas terminal covered in merchandise that boasted the eccentric local flavor. Everything was sparkling, glittering, and drenched in various shades of neon and everywhere she looked there were people strutting about in outlandish, avant-garde clothing.

Nyota thought she had seen a lot of things, but nothing in the whole of her experience could have prepared her for the swath of oddity she was wading through. She didn't know where to look and found herself torn between gaping at the local populace and watching Spock gape – as much as any Vulcan _could_ , anyway – at the local populace. She looked down at her casual blue dress and knee-high boots and felt like she belonged more in a 19th century American frontier novel than in 23rd century Las Vegas.

The walls were littered with flashing monitors and holographic projectors and each one they passed flipped to a new display, presumably targeted to them based on some kind of advertising algorithm. Nyota stopped in her tracks and waved her hand in front of one monitor and it instantly skipped to a commercial for a local salon.

When Spock joined her to ask the purpose of her hesitation, the ad switched to a pitch for a local historical society dedicated to preserving "the treasures of Sin City." Nyota waved her hand and it switched back to the salon commercial. Spock turned to face her, and it went back to the historical society advertisement.

"It changes based on who it thinks it's advertising to," she said, pointing at the view screen. "That's so wild."

"A simple algorithm based on biometric data, most likely," Spock said, wincing slightly as pulsing music started to blare over a loud speaker. "The ambient volume is at an uncomfortable level."

She leaned closer to his ear and said, "Yeah, it's pretty loud in here. Let's find the exit."

"Can I help you beautiful people find anything?" called a bright voice from behind them.

Nyota whipped around to find a woman with a half-shaved head of purple and turquoise hair wearing a dress that looked more like she had draped reflective tape over her more private body parts.

"We were looking for the exit," Spock explained.

His face was stoic but his mind was evidently ablaze. Nyota would have given anything to know exactly what was going through his head. Maybe Las Vegas hadn't been the best idea.

"You just have to follow the arrows," she grinned, pointing to the illuminated signs above their heads. "But if you're looking for fun, you should come out to our cabaret show tonight."

She directed both of her hands in a sweeping motion to a long row of flashing monitors which lit up with men and women of various species performing bawdy dances in incredibly suggestive clothing. Nyota was actually intrigued, but didn't want to push her luck with Spock on their first official date.

"I think we're good," she said, raising her voice over the swelling tempo of the music. "We just need the exit."

The woman shrugged and went on to the next group of obvious tourists lurking in the terminal. Nyota snuck a glance at Spock, noticing his placid face remained a picture of cool logic. They followed the overhead signs to the nearest door and stepped under the gaze of a dazzling sun. It was only a few degrees warmer than San Francisco had been, but the dry air made it a positively beautiful day.

She was vaguely aware of the mystique of the famed city, but being here in person was a shock to each one of her senses. Buildings erupted from stone and concrete foundations, rising upward to pierce the sky. She was caught in a swirl of bright colors and a cacophony of people wandering in every direction, each seeking some different path in the amalgam of culture that lay ahead.

"This place is unreal," she laughed, doing a full circle turn in the middle of the sidewalk.

"It appears quite real," he corrected. "What do you intend to do?"

" _Do_?"

"We have no itinerary and have packed no provisions."

"Shuttles go back to San Francisco every hour on the hour every day of the year," she reminded. "As for not having an itinerary… _look around_. There's no shortage of things to do."

Of course, there were probably some pretty severe limits on the things Spock was _willing_ to do. His hands were folded neatly behind his back and his chin was craned upward to look at a replica of the Great Sphinx, just one figure in a menagerie of facsimiles of great wonders of the world – and in recent centuries, _worlds_ – in a barren desert in the old American southwest.

"Our initial plan was to have lunch," Spock finally said, squinting his eyes against the harsh sun as he turned to face her. "Perhaps we could revisit that plan."

"Sounds good," she grinned, crossing her arms and shooting him a wry smile.

They traveled up a wide, historic street with an unusual arched cover running down the middle that displayed spectacular modern art images overhead. It was closed off to vehicles, so they walked in the middle of the road through throngs of foot traffic. Several times they were nearly separated in the thick crowds until Nyota finally worked up the courage to link her pinky finger in his. She stole a glance at his fascinated reaction and then just decided to tightly clutch his hand, looking away again before he could protest. But he _didn't_.

Handholding was obviously a strange custom to him but maybe he figured it was logical, given the circumstances. And surely he'd seen humans holding hands before. Either way, he didn't complain, and Nyota felt a tiny thrill at holding his hand in public. The relationship was so new and so awkward and she never could figure out if they would ever find a way to approach normality. How ironic that they could find normalcy in the bustling streets of Las Vegas.

"Are you very familiar with this municipality?" he asked, leaning toward her to be heard over the din of people.

"I've never actually been here, but I've heard a few things," she admitted.

"It appears we are in some kind of entertainment district," he said, observing a group of people fly overhead on anti-gravity boots.

"The whole of Las Vegas is an entertainment district," she laughed, accidentally bumping into an Andorian woman who'd groomed her hair into a single, white spike between her antennae.

"I'm _so_ sorry, excuse me," Nyota exclaimed, holding out her hand in apology.

The Andorian woman struck a strange pose and replied, "Life is such a drag already. Don't apologize."

Nyota's mouth hung open but no words found their way to the tip of her tongue. Her quick wit that so faithfully served her at any number of wild clubs and bars in San Francisco seemed to have completely evaporated in this ostentatious place. Everything about Las Vegas seemed to be a caricature of itself, dedicated to being the most flamboyant nexus in the quadrant.

She shot Spock a glance, but all he did was cock an eyebrow and say, " _Fascinating_."

"Yeah, well, let me search for somewhere to eat," she said, shaking her head in disbelief as she pulled her PADD from her purse.

They were in a section of town that still housed casinos and there were very few dedicated restaurants, but she found a bar and grill a block ahead on the main floor of what was supposed to be a famous hotel and casino. She was about to tell Spock about it when he decided to speak first.

"This is the most fascinating place I have yet visited," he declared, staring at something in the distance.

"Define _fascinating_."

"An adjective that means to attract attention through some unusual or remarkable quality and-"

"No, I mean why is it fascinating to _you_?"

"I had heard of Las Vegas but knew nothing about its society other than it had the most diverse population of any city in the Federation," he remarked. "Now I believe I know why."

"And why is that?"

"This city appears to disregard every modern culture in a way that promotes a peculiar degree of acceptance. It is the closest concrete example of kol-ut-shan I have ever witnessed."

"Infinite diversity in infinite combinations?" she asked, turning to see that he was staring at a man wearing a woman's bra and a cowboy hat.

"Yes."

Maybe she'd misjudged him. She assumed he would have been put off by the gaudy displays and overflow of exuberance and decadence, but she had never seen him more intrigued. Something about his response was… _sexy_.

They found their way to the hotel and when they stepped inside, she was stunned by how the atmosphere had completely inverted. The people were far more sensibly dressed and the undercurrent of the groups gliding through the lobby was more tense and purposeful than the lackadaisical mob on the street.

The lobby fed into three other areas: a casino straight ahead, hotel check-in to the right, and the restaurant to the left. After they checked in with the hostess and were informed it would be a twenty-minute wait for a table, Nyota excused herself to use the restroom.

She took her time gazing at herself in the mirror, trailing her fingers through her hair to give it a fuller appearance. She bit at her lips, wondering if she should have worn lipstick before coming to the same conclusion she had earlier: Spock probably didn't care. Now that the logistics of getting _to_ the date were settled, she was faced with being _on_ the date, and that was nerve-wracking.

Things had felt so natural when they'd kissed on the beach and talked in the observatory. She'd looked forward to this all week, so why was it so weird _now_? Maybe they just needed to settle down and get comfortable.

She shrugged and nodded to her reflection. Things were always weird with Spock until the conversation started flowing. She adjusted the fit of her dress in the mirror and turned around. She still looked good.

When she returned to the lobby, Spock was gone. She checked the restaurant and confirmed they were still waiting on a table and then waited outside of the restroom, presuming he'd gone in there. After about ten minutes, she started to worry. She patrolled the edges of the lobby, scanning the street outside and the smaller hotel entry.

She was about to pull her PADD from her bag to contact him when she caught sight of his rigid frame, standing with his back toward her just inside the casino. He was with a group of elegantly dressed people crowded around a table, hands folded behind his back in his usual diplomatic posture. So natural and yet so unnatural.

She glanced at the restaurant hostess and smiled. As she approached the casino table, the collective group burst into cheers and she noticed Spock speaking to the man at one end of the table. He was twirling an electronic cigar in his right hand and listening to Spock intently. Something about the twinkle in the man's eye sent a wave of dread pulsing through her. She walked faster. 

"It appears to be authorized to wager twice the amount on the pass line, and since the objective is to roll a six before rolling a seven, the odds of success are one to two, which would minimize the advantage of the game's overseer to exactly one percent."

"That's a pretty standard strategy, yeah," the man admitted, taking a long drag of his sweet-smelling cigar.

"The logical strategy is only following simple statistical probability."

"Say, how long have you been playing this game?"

"I have only just discovered it," Spock replied.

"No one learns to play craps in five minutes, and especially not just by watching," the man laughed, looking around at what appeared to be his private entourage of two smaller men and four suggestively dressed women.

"It does not seem difficult."

The casino employee shot Spock a curious look and the big man put his arm around a beautiful Risian woman. "Everyone knows you always take your odds, but I tell you what Mr. Slick Hair, what was your call?"

"Spock, _what are you doing_?" Nyota hissed.

"I was curious about the rules of this dice game so I came to investigate while you were indisposed," he replied, before turning to the man. "I cannot _guarantee_ your financial success, particularly in this endeavor, however, it would be more logical to convert your place bets on the four and ten to buy bets on those same numbers under these conditions – if possible – even with the game master's commission price."

"The _game master_?" teased the man. "We gotta work on your lingo, my friend. That guy over there is the dealer, and this casino is the house. But I tell you what, _I like you_. You're smart and it looks like you've got one hell of a beautiful lady. You see a lot of beautiful ladies at these tables, but you don't see smart people every day."

Nyota stared at the man in the suit and was about to tell Spock they should go back to the restaurant when he looked at her and asked, "Say sweetheart: pick a number between two and twelve that isn't six or seven."

" _Huh_?" she gaped. "Oh, I- I couldn't. I don't know how to play. I don't even want to-"

"You don't have to know how to play craps," he grinned, showing her an unnaturally bright, white row of teeth. "You know how numbers work, right?"

She sneered at him and said, "Fine.  _Eight_."

The man's eyes lit up and he let out a low whistle. Her choice seemed to generate some interest among the players. "Your genius husband would say this is a horrible bet, and he's right, but I'm feeling lucky. There's something special about you. _Both_ of you. Logic and luck. I like it."

She was about to explain that Spock was _not_ her husband, but she shot Spock a wild glance and mouthed, " _What are we doing_?"

Spock's eyes darted back to the table as the man pushed a neat stack of black chips toward the center of the table and said, "I'll have that on the hard eight, please."

Spock's eyebrows elevated and a lot of the people started cheering and laughing nervously, and a few passersby stopped to see what was going on. Nyota had no idea.

"What can I say?" the big man shrugged, shuffling the dice between his thick hands. "I like a touch of whimsy."

She edged closer to Spock as the man tossed the dice down the other end of the table and whispered, "What's happening?"

Spock began his explanation but was drowned out by a chorus of exuberance. Apparently the man had won… or _something_. She leaned closer to ask again, but Spock turned his face to answer. They were nearly close enough to kiss and he hesitated for a moment, staring into her eyes before he said, "Your random guess has just earned him a profit of 80,000 credits."

" _What_?" she yelped, causing him to wince at the volume. "Are you _kidding_ me?"

She didn't make that much money in _two years_. She gaped at the big man who was busy kissing the cheeks and lips of every woman within range. When he turned to Nyota, he shot a look at Spock, allowing his eyes to take in Spock's towering height, and simply offered her a hearty handshake, saying, "I knew I was right about you!"

"I- uh- _yeah_ ," she laughed breathlessly. "Congratulations."

He turned to Spock with his eyes wide open, almost as if he was about to embrace him and exclaimed, "What are the odds?"

Spock took a deliberate step backward and replied, "Simple product rule would suggest one in thirty-six of that specific roll on your first attempt, or one in nine before making your point."

"Listen to this guy," he roared, slapping Spock on the shoulder. Spock flinched, but the man leaned in and said more quietly, "Anyone who can learn craps in a few minutes just by watching me play has talent. If you ever really wanted to make some money, _real_ money on blackjack or roulette, a few of us have a little private club down on-"

"That is unnecessary," Spock replied stiffly. "I have sufficient funds to live upon."

"Well, sure, no one's really _poor_ anymore, but there's nothing wrong with being comfortable either."

Spock opened his mouth to argue but Nyota grabbed him by the hand and said, "It's been a lot of fun but we should get going."

"Sure, sure," the large man said, reaching his hand out to offer Spock a handshake. "You're a very lucky man."

"Luck is…" Spock gazed at Nyota and took his hand awkwardly, replying, "Yes, I do believe I am."

She looked away before he could see the smile on her face and mumbled, "Let's go back to the restaurant. I'm not even sure if they're holding our table anymore."

"Restaurant? Tell you what. Food's on me," the man said, handing Nyota one of the stacks of black chips. "Lady Luck comes calling, you give her a tip. It's the rules."

"Oh, that's not-" she looked down at the chips in her hand, noticing they were all marked with a small 1,000. She felt very numb and her jaw didn't seem to be cooperating.

They said their goodbyes to the craps table and made their way over to the automated cashier, but quickly ran into the problem of which account to deposit it into and necessary tax information.

" _You_ should take it," she told Spock. "You're the one who got so interested in craps in the first place."

"However it was your decision to select the number eight and the man bequeathed you a substantial commission for your choice based on a curious superstition."

"I don't even know what hard away means. _He_ picked that. This is _his_ money," she said, shooting the machine a sidelong glance.

"I am not very familiar with all the colloquial terminology, but I believe _hard way_ means that he was wagering he would roll two fours before any possible combination of sixes. The odds were not in his favor and his return on investment for such a wager was really quite poor."

"Spock, I'm holding _ten thousand_ credits in my hands. It seems like a good enough return on investment to me."

"Hey folks, can you hurry up? People are waiting," called a man behind them.

"It is yours," Spock insisted. "I have no need of it."

She sighed and slid her hands across the screen to put in her information. After taxes she was going to keep less than half, but it was still the most profitable half hour of her life for simply having said the word "eight."

They strolled back to the restaurant and put themselves back on the list for a table and waited on a bench outside. He explained the rules of craps, which were interesting enough, but once the conversation turned to probability density functions and statistical variance, she started to tune him out and pay closer attention to his face. Nyota enjoyed math, but she enjoyed watching Spock discuss it even more. 

Talking about numbers seemed to excite something within him – as much as a Vulcan _could_ be excited – and there was something attractive about that. He was _so_ intelligent. She noticed her body was unconsciously leaning forward and she felt a fleeting instinct to kiss him, but she pulled herself back. They had a lot more to figure out still.

The hostess eventually seated them at a table for two in the corner of the bar. It wasn't a time of day when most people took a meal, but the restaurant was still packed. They placed orders for large soups and salads, which arrived less than ten minutes later. As she picked up her spoon with her right hand, she allowed her left hand brush his knee under the table. Though he showed no external reaction on his face or in his posture, she felt his left hand stroke her forefingers and experienced the same incredible rush of contentment she'd felt on the beach when they'd shared this "finger embrace."

Half an hour later they left the restaurant and struck out on the streets of Las Vegas. It was the middle of the afternoon and extremely comfortable outside, and Nyota dared herself to hold Spock's hand again. She expected strange looks for holding hands with a Vulcan but quickly realized that no one cared. If anything, they were among the most ordinary people on the streets of Sin City, and that felt really comforting.

Interspecies relationships were becoming more common with each passing generation, but there were still places on Earth and throughout the Federation where they were still considered "odd." She'd realized long ago however that progress wasn't a destination. It was just that: _progress_. But as far as Las Vegas was concerned, they were a pair of quaint prudes wearing entirely too much drab clothing and not enough carefree grins.

They toured a long street of museums, learning all about Las Vegas' earliest days as a haven for gangsters and gamblers in the early 20th century which later evolved into a destination for free-spirits, lovers, and entertainers as the years went by. After first contact with the Vulcans, Las Vegas rapidly became a sanctuary for all alien countercultures, which explained its incredible diversity. Both Federation and Terran governments had made numerous attempts to crack down on the city's legalized vices over the centuries, but the harder the government pushed, the harder the city pushed back.

It seemed they'd come to some form of agreement in which the government wouldn't attempt to outlaw gambling and other forms of entertainment so long as the city contained organized crime outbreaks and severely punished other illicit trades. She had no idea how well the system worked, but she supposed no one really did.

Vivid, flashing lights emerged on the strip as dusk fell and a whole new rhythm invigorated the city. They were in an older historic district, far beyond the clutches of the towering skyscraper casinos and exotic entertainment. She sensed their date was coming to a close and wished they could have spent more time learning about each other than experiencing the shock and awe of Las Vegas.

Spock stopped suddenly, canting his head and turning to face a small lounge bar with a pink, neon-style sign. Nyota trained her ears and could hear the quick tempo of several stringed instruments scratching out an unfamiliar style of folk music.

They looked at each other and didn't even have to exchange words. Less than a minute later, they were sitting down at a small round table near a stage where a Nausicaan, two humans, and a Tellarite improvised a beat that sounded like a delightful marriage between bluegrass, jazz, and something metallic.

"You said you do not play the acoustic guitar, but do you play any other instruments?" he asked.

"I picked up _reading_ music without a problem, because it's just like any other language," she explained. "I think I can sing ok, but I don't really play any instruments. I mean, I tried to learn a few but I wouldn't say I was really successful. My brother Malcolm is the musician."

"I was unaware you had a brother."

"Yeah, I also have a younger sister, Uaekundu. We're all pretty close," she smiled. "What about you? Do you have siblings?"

"I have an elder half brother," he replied, glancing away to observe the eclectic band. "We do not speak."

She sensed she'd struck a painful nerve and suddenly the band seemed even more interesting than digging herself into a deeper hole. They sat in silence for several minutes until the waitress brought their drinks – a Cardassian Sunrise for her and tepid water for him. As she took her first sip, she felt his hand settle on hers and pull it into a tight embrace.

She shot him a curious glance and realized he was simply enjoying the music. Of _course_ she hadn't offended him or made the situation uncomfortable: he was _Vulcan_. He was _logical_. She wondered if she would ever get used to playing by completely different rules of body language and social cues, but right then, she was happy enough to be holding his hand while enjoying a drink and listening to good music.

As the night wore on, they enjoyed a little more idle chitchat and ozh'esta, and just when she was beginning to wonder when they should call it a night, he said, "It is late. Perhaps we should consider returning to San Francisco."

She chewed the inside of her cheek and locked eyes with him. "I don't want to leave. I've had such an amazing day with you. Not to mention it's the most profitable date I've ever been on."

He studied her face for a moment and said, "I am not required to be back at the Academy until 1800 hours tomorrow."

"Do you want to get a hotel room?" the alcohol replied.

Her brain started a series of mildly drunken cartwheels and she sensed she was staring at him with her mouth open. She was buzzed but she wasn't really drunk. Why had she just asked him that? Then Gaila's checklist chose that unfortunate moment to make a grand entrance into her thoughts. 

_"Do you want to see this person naked?"_

Nyota could feel her cheeks burning with uncharacteristic embarrassment. She never had a problem being confident around anyone else, but so few other people even tried to be a mental match for her, and most people were easy to understand. Not Spock. Spock was an enigma, personally and culturally, and she didn't want to mess things up. It had never occurred to her until that moment just how much she liked him and wanted him to like her in return. She hadn't specifically said, "let's get a hotel room _together_ ," but that had been the implication.

"We did not pack the requisite supplies to stay for a long period, but I am willing to remain here overnight if that is what you prefer."

She tried to choose her words carefully. "We don't have to share a room, if you don't want to, I just thought-"

"Perhaps we could discuss it on the way to a hotel," he finished.

They exchanged glances, rose from the table, and left the lounge without another word.


	17. A New Algorithm

Were it not for his rigid mental discipline, the pulsing and flickering lights and discordant sounds of Las Vegas at night would be an unbearable shock to the senses. He was not often given to distraction, but the attractions and populace of this luminous city nearly demanded it.

He admired the willingness of the diverse population to not only tolerate their differences, but also celebrate them. It was kol-ut-shan – infinite diversity in infinite combinations. The foundation of all Vulcan philosophy taught him to admire the vast array of variables in the universe, including the existence and cultural practices of other sentient species. In Spock's experience, many Vulcans preferred kol-ut-shan in theory more than in practice.

He felt a tickle on his little finger. _Nyota_. He already could differentiate her touch through the crowds of people on the street. He stretched his fingers and allowed her to hold his hand, forcing himself to tamp the pleasure of the warmth radiating from her skin.

His senses settled as they stepped through the threshold of the hotel's main lobby. Spock had suggested they return to the establishment where they'd taken lunch because he preferred the quieter atmosphere. Nyota had agreed as they left the lounge but now seemed hesitant. Her pace slowed and she dropped his hand as she craned her neck to the right to observe the smaller hotel lobby.

"You're sure you want to do this?" she asked.

He pondered what would cause her to reevaluate her initial proposal and recalled she'd consumed two alcoholic beverages at the unusual concert hall. Perhaps her judgment had been impaired. "Your question implies that you are reconsidering."

Her eyes narrowed and she turned her body to face him. "No, _no_ , I'm fine with it. But you do realize that getting a room… some people might think…"

"I wish to speak with you in a quieter setting," he explained.

She was shifting her weight from one foot to the other and taking great care to look at his face without directly meeting his eyes. "I do too, but did you want to get a room… you know… _together_?"

"Was that not what was implied?"

She bit down hard on her bottom lip and their eyes finally locked. "I guess _together_ was implied, but there are other implications in being together… it's… I…"

Spock glanced at the doors of the main entry and took several steps toward her to avoid obstructing the flow of foot traffic. She was uncomfortable but he could not understand why. "Please speak your mind."

"Oh fine," she snapped in a low voice. "When two people get a room _together_ , it usually means they want to have sex."

How should he respond? The prospect of mating with her was… _intriguing_. He suppressed a fleeting impulse to touch her again and refocused on her statement.

He had not understood her insinuation, but the only hotels he'd ever stayed at had been diplomatic lodgings with his family when he was a child. They were spacious apartments, generally with several central common areas and a number of private rooms. He could tell by the rapidly shifting expression on her face that she was growing anxious and he realized his time for deliberation was at an end. "Is that what you wish to do?"

She folded her arms tightly across her chest, looked away, and scoffed something unintelligible under her breath.

"I apologize. I am simply ill acquainted with your customs," he insisted.

Poorly acquainted was true, but he was not _completely_ unfamiliar. He knew from years of inadvertently overhearing human discussion that gratuitous mating was common among her species, less as a means of procreating but more for the purpose of mate selection and bonding. He had accepted this prior to the establishment of their romantic relationship.

"There's no _custom_ , exactly," she mumbled, staring at his feet.

"How do you wish to proceed?"

"How do _you_ wish to proceed?" she countered.

He analyzed her face, searching for some unspoken clue about how to reply. He was accustomed to dealing with the dual nature of humanity and had learned long ago that the ambiguous and capricious behavior of humans stemmed from two sets of social precepts – those easily explained and codified and those whispered about and vaguely understood. He sensed he was dealing with the latter.

"I don't know, Spock," she added. "We could get separate rooms, or a room with separate beds."

"I defer to your judgment."

"It doesn't work that way," she retorted. "We're in this together. You keep talking about wanting to adhere my customs – what about _your_ customs?"

By Vulcan custom, unrelated or unbonded members of the opposite sex simply did not cohabitate, even for brief periods. Yet he had done so many things contradictory to Vulcan customs since he'd joined Starfleet eight years earlier. Mission requirements had forced him to share living space with females on numerous occasions and he'd never experienced an issue, though he understood it was a poor comparison with his present situation, as he'd also never considered any of those females as potential mates.

"I am comfortable with sharing a room," he explained. "Are you?"

"Obviously, or I wouldn't have asked you."

"I ask because I am aware humans are prone to impulsive decision making and I understand you may have been intoxicated when you proposed this venture."

Her arms tightened across her chest and her eyes narrowed to the point of almost being closed, but then a subtle laugh escaped her lips. "I don't know whether to be grateful or insulted."

"Explain."

"It's nice that you would ask again and make sure I'm still on board, and _no_ , I'm not _drunk_ ," she replied. "You don't have to insult my species though."

"How have I insulted your species?" he queried.

"You called us – and _me_ , by extension – impulsive."

"It was merely an observation," he clarified. "Do you wish to argue that the humans are _not_ impulsive?"

"Not _all_ of us," she snapped.

"I have known you to engage in impulsive behavior."

"What? _When_?"

"Would you like a full accounting of each incident or a sample of the most recent occurrences?"

Her mouth hung open, twisting her face into obvious annoyance. Then she stopped, pursed her lips together, laughed, and said, "Let's go get a room."

It was common knowledge among Vulcans that humans had many logical failings and that it often aggravated and confused them to be reminded of that fact because they did not always consider those shortcomings to be faults. He reflected upon their exchange for a few moments while she secured access to a room from the automated machine in the hotel lobby, and as they entered the lift to travel to their rented room on the 23rd floor, he looked at her and said, "I did not intend to offend you."

"I know," she replied, pivoting to face him. "You're right; humans _can_ be impulsive, but it's not always a bad thing. Being impulsive is the whole reason I'm in Las Vegas with you _now_ and since you agreed to come, that makes you at least a little impulsive too, and that's funny to me."

"Submitting to an impulsive decision is not universally indicative of impulsivity," he argued. "Furthermore, an impulsive decision may still be analyzed rationally and found to be logically sound."

The door to the lift swung open and they stepped into the hallway. "Oh _really_? So tell me how you arrived at the decision to get on a shuttle to come to Las Vegas with a _cadet_ through careful, _logical_ analysis."

He was reluctant to reveal his thought process to her. He recalled Pike's words… " _Life is short, but it's also too long to go through alone_." That was especially true for Vulcan males. As Spock was no longer bonded to T'Pring, it was necessary and logical to seek out a mate prior to the onset of his first pon farr.

He had not _chosen_ Nyota specifically – there were many reasons a human cadet was a poor choice for a Vulcan senior Starfleet officer – but choosing a mate was not done logically. He had attempted to distance himself from her and had failed, and now that he'd identified and accepted that he preferred her company above that of other females, it was logical to investigate her potential as a compatible bondmate through some form of courtship ritual.

She stopped in front of a room labeled 23105 and entered an access code. The locks clicked and they entered an open, well-lit room with two large beds in the center facing a holographic projector. There was a single lavatory immediately to the left and a food and beverage replicator on the right.

"I thought two beds seemed like a fair compromise," she muttered.

"It is acceptable."

"This doesn't make you feel-" she frowned. " _No_ , probably not."

"Please, speak plainly," he urged.

"I was serious when I asked about your customs on these kinds of things," she replied. "I know it must have been weird to talk about downstairs in the lobby, but now that we're here alone, are you sure you're… I don't know… ok with this?"

"I would not have come if I were not."

She exhaled sharply and bobbed her head. They were in very close proximity in the narrow entryway, and he notice she was looking at his lips. Like nearly everything about Nyota, the gentle slope of her mouth was aesthetically pleasing and he found himself drawn to her. He inched his right hand forward to take her forefingers, but she jumped the moment his skin made contact with hers.

"I apologize," he said quickly, retracting his hand.

"No," she breathed with a gentle laugh. "You just surprised me."

The corners of her mouth turned down into a nervous smile and she shook her head. Her eyes trailed along the features of his face until their gaze locked. Her eyelids started to flutter and she stood on her toes, and soon they were caught in a gratifying kiss. His hand instinctively reached for hers again, but it was no longer at her side.

 _A shock_. Her palms made contact with his cheeks, then her fingertips, and for the briefest instant, their minds touched in a very intimate way. He wrenched himself away from her and the unanticipated telepathic contact. She stared at him, eyes wide and searching.

"I'm sorry," she stammered.

He reasoned that if _he_ was unaware that a human could initiate a mind meld, she almost certainly was unaware of it also. Nonconsensual telepathic contact was among the most severe of Vulcan taboos, but she had obviously not intended it.

"Whatever I did, I'm sorry," she croaked.

"There is no need to apologize," he said, suppressing several unusual emotions.

"What just happened?"

"You initiated a mind meld," he replied, sifting through his consciousness for the source of his unease.

A confused look etched itself into her face and her eyes looked far away for several seconds. "A _what_?"

"As you already know, Vulcans possess psionic telepathic abilities," he explained. "Apparently humans are capable of utilizing those same abilities on a Vulcan subject."

"Did I just- did I just _hurt_ you?"

"No, as you said a moment ago, you only surprised me."

She sighed. "I made things weird, didn't I?"

He continued to scan his thoughts and came to the realization that the emotions he was struggling to suppress were _hers_. She was anxious and excited and… _something else_.

" _Spock_?"

"No, you have not made things… _weird_ ," he replied, deferring to her terminology for the sake of simplicity. "Would you like to sit down?"

"Yeah," she muttered, stopping by the replicator to order a glass of water.

He took a seat on the edge of the far bed and examined the décor on the walls above the headboards. There were several prints in utilitarian frames featuring black and white depictions of humans performing mining operations and another drawing of a mine with a single caption, " _Mining on the Comstock_."

She sat on the end of the opposite bed and took a long sip of water. "I'm sorry again for what I did earlier."

"It was not intentional," he replied.

"I know, but it just proves how little I know about you," she sighed. "You know, I thought it was funny how you turned Gaila's list into a flowchart, but I sort of understand now. I wish I had some rules for dating a Vulcan."

"Cadet Gaila's checklist was arbitrary and flawed," he replied.

"Not to mention obsolete now that you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you're actually on a date," she mused. "Maybe you need a new algorithm. Maybe we _both_ do."

"I know little of human courtship rituals," he agreed.

" _That's_ obvious," she laughed. "But it's just as obvious that I have no idea what I'm doing with you either. How _do_ Vulcans date?"

"Many Vulcans do not," he admitted. "Most Vulcans have mates selected for them by their parents in their youth."

The look on her face was difficult to interpret. "I'm sorry, I'm trying to remember my cultural sensitivity training to be able to ask this question in the least offensive way possible, but arranged marriage… that seems really… _old-fashioned_."

"I understand arranged marriages have not been practiced within any human culture for nearly a century, but there are practical reasons Vulcans have maintained it."

"Now I'm torn between asking what those reasons are and why your parents didn't arrange a marriage for you."

"To your first question, the reasons are complex and not generally discussed with offworlders, and to your second question, they did arrange a mate for me."

Her mouth started to work at forming syllables and she blurted, "So… you're… _married_? _Engaged_?"

"No," he explained. "I do not believe there is an corresponding human custom, but when Vulcan children are bonded, it is something akin to a betrothal."

" _Betrothed_ then?"

"My intended mate did not approve of Starfleet," he explained. "I released her from her commitment and we no longer share a telepathic link."

T'Pring's disapproval of Starfleet was illogical yet unsurprising, given her mother had died aboard the _USS Kelvin_ when she was a young child. His bond with T'Pring had never been a strong one and after more than a decade of attempting to grow close to one another, they mutually decided that neither of them had any interest in pursuing the match. His decision to attend Starfleet Academy had provided them a suitable pretext for severing their arrangement, much to the private dismay of both their families.

Three years earlier she'd sought his permission to marry a man named Stonn – more as a formality than a requirement – and he'd readily consented. He did not care for T'Pring as mates ought to care for one another, but she was still deserving of a suitable partner.

"So you're… _divorced_?"

"Not precisely," he corrected. "But I do not believe there is an analogous human term. I am completely unencumbered, if that is what you wish to know."

She snorted into her glass of water and uttered a soft sigh. "Well, that's good news, because that's exactly how I like my boyfriends: _unencumbered_."

She set her beverage on the small table between the beds and stared at him. She tucked her head between her hands and started to massage her temples.

"Are you well?"

"I'm getting a mild headache," she groaned. "It's been coming on since we left the lounge, but that's what I get for drinking kanar."

"Do you wish to consult a physician?"

She sat up and gave him a pained grin. "I'll deal with it. It's not that bad. Besides, I'd rather stay here with you."

"Would you allow me to perform neuropressure on you?"

She gave him a pointed look. "I've heard Vulcan neuropressure hurts."

"It depends on the posture used and the neural nodes being stimulated," he admitted. "What is the precise location of your pain?"

She gestured to her head and offered a weak laugh. "Everywhere."

"I am willing to attempt to provide you relief."

She frowned and then shrugged. "Oh what the hell? What do I do?"

Spock took a seat behind her on the bed, noting her body tensed slightly from the casual contact of their legs. "Straighten your spine and breathe normally."

She sat up but remained in an improper position. He nearly placed his hand on the small of her back to adjust her posture but corrected himself. "May I touch you?"

She twisted at the waist and shot a sharp look in his direction. "I thought that was kind of the point of this exercise."

He nodded and pressed on her lumbar vertebrae. She returned to a forward-facing position and her shoulders naturally jerked back. He pushed her hair over her shoulder, perceiving the sweet smell of coconut. He wouldn't be able to access the neural nodes at the base of her skull through her thick tresses. "Will you hold your hair out of the way?"

She scooped her locks into a loose handhold at the back of her head, and he realized her dress was also obstructing his access to her upper thoracic vertebrae. He gently pushed down on the fabric, realizing it did not stretch as much as he'd anticipated.

She seemed to sense the problem because she turned her head and gave him a thin smile. With her free hand, she undid several of the buttons at the front of her dress, slackening the garment enough to expose the top part of her spine. "You know, if you were anyone else, I'd probably think this was a ruse to get me out of my clothes."

His hands froze. "That was never my intention."

"I know," she scoffed. "You're not just _anyone else_."

"Do you wish me to proceed?"

"Yes, Spock," she droned. " _Proceed_."

He pushed the tips of his forefingers into the nodes on the sides of her axis, causing her to produce a sharp gasp.

"Is that too much pressure?" he asked.

"No," she yelped. "It just wasn't what I was expecting. I'll let you know if I can't take it."

He resumed his task, working his way down her shoulders and spine. When he reached her thoracic vertebrae, she uttered a low moan. Something about the timbre of her vocalization elicited an involuntary physical response in him. His heart quickened, his pupils dilated, and he struggled to balance his autonomic nervous system. She slapped her hand over her mouth and turned her body to face him.

"My head feels a lot better," she whispered through the cracks of her fingers.

She was close enough that he could feel her soft breaths on his neck and could see the brown flecks in her dark irises. Their lips met on instinct, then their tongues. He searched for her hands but she found his first. She grabbed them and placed them on her slender waist, causing him to notice she was shaking slightly. Rather than let go of his hands, she pushed them upward toward her breasts and Spock felt his fingers tighten around her tiny ribcage. She was so fragile.

 _No_. He pulled away and immediately recognized he was not in control of his breathing. Neither was she, according to the quick rise and fall of her chest. Her eyes were large and questioning and her lower lip quivered almost imperceptibly. " _What's wrong_?"

"I did not intend to lose control of myself," he explained, willing his mind to refocus.

She gave him a perplexed look, scowled, and nodded. "It's only our first date…"

She refastened the buttons on the front of her dress and stood. "I didn't mean to push you."

"You have done nothing wrong," he insisted, rising to his feet.

"But how would I know that?" she snapped, grasping at her elbows. "I have no idea what your expectations are, what your boundaries are…"

He cocked his head to observe her more closely. Her emotional reaction was illogical – he'd never established his boundaries or expectations, but neither had _she_. "Earlier you theorized that I should develop a new algorithm as the previous one has become obsolete."

She closed her eyes momentarily and laughed. " _Ugh_ … I guess whatever it takes. I don't want to keep – I don't know – making you feel uncomfortable."

They sat back down on the bed. He asked, "Do I make you feel uncomfortable?"

"Sometimes," she mumbled. "I feel like I shouldn't show my emotions in front of you… like you find it offensive."

"I am aware of your humanity," he explained. "But you must be as you are. I do not abandon logic when I am in your company."

"So you're willing to respect my emotionality?"

"Within reason, so long as you also respect my adherence to Vulcan tenets."

"It's like you already said, I knew you were Vulcan before I agreed to date you."

"Very well. What other expectations do you have?"

"I don't know? _The usual stuff_? Don't abuse me, don't lie to me – like you could ever do any of that."

"Vulcans are quite capable of lying," he corrected. "But I have no intention of concealing any pertinent truths from you."

"Vulcans can lie? _Vulcans_?"

"I believe I spoke clearly."

"Have _you_ ever told a lie?"

"Several times."

"To _who_? About what?"

"That is irrelevant to our conversation."

"Have you ever lied to me?"

"No."

She chewed her lip and nodded. "I would think that lying is illogical though."

"There are occasions when it is a more logical course of action than the truth."

She tucked her legs underneath her skirt and pushed herself up on the bed to lie down. "What could be more logical than the truth?"

"The preservation of life."

"It seems to me like Vulcans can find a way to justify anything with logic."

"Logic is logic," he explained. "Like any tool, it can be misused."

She tucked her hands under her face and grinned. "Ok, so I guess that gets expectations out of the way. What about boundaries? I didn't realize I shouldn't touch your face."

"I was unaware humans were capable of initiating mind melds," he admitted. "I cannot hold you to account for what I myself did not know."

"It was weird. For a fraction of a second, it was like I knew your thoughts. Not like I could hear them exactly, but I could sort of… _sense_ them."

"A mind meld is a very… _intimate_ telepathic link," he explained.

"And you don't want to do that?" she asked.

"I would prefer to get to know your mind externally before exploring it firsthand."

"That's fair," she agreed. "Getting to know someone is the best part of a new relationship. Which brings me to… what started this whole conversation. _Sex_."

"I understand it is an integral feature of human bonding and affection," he acknowledged.

"Well, I guess like your mind meld, it's not something you want to rush into," she mused. "It's weird though, just a minute ago when you pulled away… it felt… I don't know..."

"Speak your mind."

"It felt like you weren't attracted to me, which in a way is a nice change of pace from the usual losers just looking for a quick hookup, but…"

"You imply I have no physical attraction to you. That is incorrect. You are very beautiful, Nyota."

Her features softened and she searched his face for something. "Thank you, Spock."

"It is an honest judgment."

She reached out her hand and took his forefingers. "I'm assuming this is ok."

"It is, yes," he admitted.

He moved nearer to her, taking in the pleasant sensation of ozh'esta. A very short time later, she began a gentle descent into sleep. He watched her for a while, observing the slow rhythm of her breathing and the movement of her eyes beneath their lids.

Eventually he withdrew his hand, stood, and made his way to the corner of the room for a period of meditation. His logical mind was in disarray, yet he was also very much at ease. Rather than recenter himself by his usual method of concentration, he chose the more subtle technique of mindfulness. He clamped down on his emotions and allowed his thoughts to drift, choosing to simply observe them without feeling them.

His reflections instantly turned to the woman lying on the bed just meters away and very quickly he found himself struggling to suppress several sentiments. He'd intended to meditate for only a brief period, but it took nearly two hours to get his mind properly balanced.

As he made his way to the unoccupied bed, he considered adjusting the thermostat to a warmer setting, but realized it was set for a human. Nyota was resting comfortably and he didn't wish to disturb her, so he grabbed an extra blanket from the entry closet, removed his shoes, and tucked himself into the other bed.

He shut out the lights and started a series of slow breaths to help him transition into sleep and had nearly achieved his goal when her soft voice pierced the darkness. " _Spock_?"

"Yes, Nyota?"

 _Silence_. Then there was a rustling of fabric and the sound of padded footfall on the carpet. He could see the outline of her body by the light streaming through the thick shades on the windows. He wanted to be near her.

There was a pull on the heavy comforter. She hesitated. He found her hand in the darkness and took it, and soon her small body slid under the sheets next to his. He could feel the warmth of her skin through her dress and inhaled the sweet scent of her hair.

She didn't speak, but traced her fingers down the buttons of his shirt, eventually allowing her hand to rest low on his chest to feel his heartbeat. This simple touch rendered his hours of meditation worthless, but for the first time in his life, he discovered inner peace could stem from a source other than logic.

They returned to San Francisco the following morning. She had projects to work on and he had correspondence to attend to, and as they bid one another goodbye at the terminal, they agreed to attempt another meeting prior to next month's tactical training exercise.

He returned to his quarters and after he'd showered and shaved, he played his messages as he contemplated the planning board on his wall. Gaila's algorithm was now functionally obsolete – at least where Nyota was concerned. He erased the data and considered beginning anew when a message from Captain Pike began.

_Spock –_

_Must have been a busy weekend, because I've never known you not to reply back within the hour. Anyway, Personnel Resources is asking me to get assignments finalized and I was hoping you could send me the performance records of the cadets you'd like assigned to Enterprise by 0900 hours on Monday. I want 12._

_I'd appreciate your quick action on this. Thanks._

_Chris Pike_

Spock was caught unawares. He'd been drafting a response to Captain Pike when Lieutenant Akamatsu had sat down across from him at the bistro and had never sent his reply because he'd been too consumed with chasing after Nyota. He was unaccustomed to such mental lapses and decided to dedicate several hours to intensive meditation later that evening.

He sat down at his computer and pulled the records of many of his top performing students and referenced them against the lengthy list Pike had forwarded from personnel resources. Both Pavel Chekov and Hikaru Sulu had listed _Enterprise_ as their first choice of assignment, so he dropped their records into his submission file to Pike without further consideration. He spent the next two hours reviewing student records and found nine other students with remarkable performance reviews and aptitude who also desired a position on the Federation's new flagship.

He finally allowed himself to think of Nyota – correction, Cadet Nyota Uhura. He weighed her on merit alone, focusing on her abilities in communications and xenolinguistics and her potential as a communications officer. She was an exceptional student.

Yet he considered his relationship with her and logically concluded it could be impeding his judgment on a subconscious level, so he set himself to reviewing the files of the cadets he'd selected and compared them against hers. In terms of simple metrics, she was superior in every way. She was ranked first in communications – her area of concentration – and fourth out of all the students in her year. She was a logical choice.

His eyes scanned her file for a fifth time, lingering over the administrative data at the top. He paused. Her date of birth was stardate 2236.20. She would turn 22 years of age in less than two weeks.

Celebrating the anniversary of one's birth was not a practice observed by Vulcans. Vulcans considered it indelicate to discuss age or birth at all, yet Spock knew humans viewed birthdays as a personal holiday. Several times a month, some sort of pastry or confection appeared in the faculty break room to honor a colleague's birth and Spock was frequently inundated with requests to sign personal notes to congratulate someone on another successful tour around the planet's local star. 

He placed her record in the submission file to Captain Pike and sent the batch without further deliberation over his ethics or her qualifications. He turned his mind instead toward her birthday. How should he proceed?


	18. A Boyfriend Like Spock

Nyota waited outside the simulator with the other cadets, wondering what was taking so long. The  _Kobayashi Maru_  scenario should have started ten minutes ago.

Spock had programmed this simulator and it seemed unlikely that her precise,  _exacting_  Vulcan boyfriend would be running late. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, picturing his face in her mind. She smiled to herself, remembering their night together in Las Vegas just two weeks earlier. Seemed like a lifetime ago; it also seemed like yesterday.

She had only seen him twice since their return to San Francisco, both times in passing in the hallways where she made sure to be deferential and cordial. They'd sent a few messages to one another on their personal PADDs through private accounts trying to arrange meetings, but so far, nothing had worked out. Every day she grew more frustrated that she was missing out on all the perks of new romance – staying up until the late hours of the night talking, having lunch together, holding hands in public, gushing about him to all of her friends.  _Sex_. She bit her lip and sighed.

She wasn't sure how much Spock would be up for any of those things even if they weren't in Starfleet and tiptoeing along the razor's edge of fraternization. The only other person who knew was Gaila, and she barely saw her roommate anymore. Nyota was spending longer hours in the sensor labs working on her senior thesis and Gaila was too busy messing around with that egomaniac, James Kirk.

" _You_  look happy."

" _Speak of the devil_ ," she thought glumly to herself, opening her eyes to see the smug yet handsome face of Jim Kirk.

"What do  _you_  want?"

"For you to smile at  _me_  like that," Kirk replied. "You  _do_  have such a nice smile. I bet it's just as nice as your name."

She sneered at him. This loser was dating Gaila, her roommate and best friend, but he had the  _nerve_  to hit on her? "I feel so jealous of all the people who haven't met you."

"Technically I haven't met you either because you still won't tell me your first name, so it's good to know you're jealous of me." He shot her a wink and her lips reflexively curled away from her teeth.

She narrowed her eyes and pulled her arms tighter around her chest. She was not in the mood for this, not today. She'd tried so hard to tell Gaila what was a self-important ass he was, but Gaila refused to listen. How could her roommate have such amazing insight about the lives of other people but be so blind when it came to herself?

"The simulation will begin in three minutes," said a dry, familiar voice behind her.

Her heart quickened and her mouth involuntarily stretched into a smile. Spock stood at the base of the stairs to the observation room, hands tucked neatly behind his back.

"Aye, sir," everyone mumbled, shuffling toward the simulator door.

"There's a smile," Kirk remarked, looking closely at her. "You have a thing for Vulcan guys? I saw the way you looked at pointy just now."

Nyota gritted her teeth at his insult to her boyfriend and fought to keep her face neutral and her tone more scathing than panicky. "I'd hook up with a  _Gorn_  before I'd hook up with  _you_."

"Wow, that might be the harshest insult anyone's ever thrown at me," he said, clutching his chest in mock injury. "And someone even once implied I liked to have sex with farm animals…"

Nyota took a deep breath and refused to look in Spock's direction but saw him ascending the stairs in her peripheral vision. Kirk didn't suspect anything, did he? He  _was_  messing around with Gaila… She pursed her lips tightly and made a mental note to give her chatty Orion roommate another lecture on secrecy the next time she saw her, just in case.

She felt a knot forming in her gut as she stalked into the small room outfitted as a replica starship bridge and took her seat at the comm station, just as she did every first and third Friday of the month from 0900 to 1300. She hated doing these simulations, but it was a requirement for cadets from all specialties to participate in testing for the command track students.

In theory, it was supposed to be beneficial to her by getting her comfortable with bridge operations, but realistically she wouldn't be working on the bridge of a starship or in the command center of a star base for at least a couple of years after graduation. Most newly minted communications ensigns did grunt work – maintaining equipment, processing departmental logs, and monitoring underused frequencies.

Nyota wasn't afraid to pay her dues, but kept a sharp eye on her career path even though her career hadn't technically started. She knew  _exactly_  what she needed to do to reach the top of her field – which positions she'd need to hold and what continuing education she'd need along the way – and she looked forward to the opportunity to work as part of a bridge crew someday.

As monotonous as these training scenarios were, sometimes it was interesting to see how her fellow cadets handled pressure. She used to think drills and simulations were nerve-wracking too, but then she'd lived through an attack by Nausicaan pirates and a subsequent shuttle crash. These were just  _games_  but two weeks ago, she'd watched a senior cadet cry when he failed the Deep Space K-7 scenario.

She tried not to be too judgmental of the command track cadets; after all, no one had ever accused Nyota of not caring about her grades. Yet ever since the crash of the  _Dalton II_ , she'd preferred to focus on the quality of her education rather than the metrics of her student record. The Nausicaans hadn't cared what her GPA was, but they  _had_  cared that she knew how to use a phaser.

And not all of the simulations were graded anyway. Some were pass/fail and others, like the  _Kobayashi Maru_ , were simply required to be attempted. The  _Kobayashi Maru_  was one of the more interesting tests because it was impossible to fail, or maybe it was more correct to say that it was impossible to pass. Seeing how the command track cadets approached it was eye opening and sometimes frightening.

Would the students choose to violate Starfleet regulations and rescue the civilian freighter from the Klingon Neutral Zone or would they do nothing and allow the crew and passengers of the vessel to die an almost certain death? This was the simulation the command track students agonized over most because it was common knowledge that even if they chose to do nothing, they would just receive a subsequent order to attempt rescue anyway. There was no choice they could make that wouldn't lead to the ultimate deaths of everyone involved, but Nyota supposed that was the purpose of the test. It seemed like a measure of character, a way to analyze a person's acceptance of an impossible scenario and certain death.

She saw the green light illuminate overhead – the scenario had begun. She could see Kirk in the reflection of the glass of her computer screen. He was slumped casually in the central captain's chair, picking his teeth with his tongue and examining his fingernails. She rolled her eyes. They were all here for  _him_  to take this test and he wasn't even taking it seriously.

Even if  _he_  wasn't going to act like a professional,  _she_  still could. She scanned the necessary frequencies, knowing that sometime in the next ten minutes, she would receive a distress call from the fictional  _Kobayashi Maru_. The minutes ticked by and she listened to the tactical officer brief occasional updates and the engineering liaison tap her foot in boredom. She tried to keep eyes from rolling out of her head as she listened to Kirk charm every single female on the bridge but after fifteen minutes, Nyota started to wonder if something was wrong. Why hadn't she received the distress call?

"Hey nameless communications officer, don't you have something for me?" Kirk asked, wagging his eyebrows expectantly.

" _No_ ," she snapped. The singular word was barely out of her mouth when the power surged on the bridge. The lighting momentarily dimmed and her screen flickered, but soon she noticed the recognizable flash of the subspace distress signal trail across the simulator's computer screen.  _Finally_.

"We're receiving a distress signal from the  _USS Kobayashi Maru_ ," she announced. "They've struck a gravimetric mine and drifted into the Klingon Neutral Zone. They've lost main power and hull integrity and life support are failing."

"Let's go get 'em," Kirk cheered.

She narrowed her eyes, frowned, and turned in her chair. "You don't want to…  _I don't know_ … inform Starfleet Command of the situation first?"

"Let's not kid ourselves,  _cadet_ ," he grinned. "We're here to rescue them and we're going to die doing it.  _Maybe_."

She bristled at the idea of being addressed as a "cadet" by a fellow cadet in such a condescending manner, but his implication that he was going to beat this test was even more annoying. How could  _anyone_  be so arrogant?

"Oh  _fine_ ," Kirk said lazily. "You can notify Starfleet Command if you want, but in the meantime, let's prepare sickbay to receive all casualties and tell engineering to boost more power to the shields. Have transporters standing by to bring the crew of the  _Kobayashi Maru_  aboard when we're within range."

Nyota watched the expressions on the faces of her fellow cadets, noting she wasn't the only one who thought he was out of his mind.

"But we're not under attack," argued the engineering liaison officer. "Why would-"

"Three Klingon warbirds just dropped out of warp," interrupted the tactical officer, glancing up from his post.

"Right on schedule," Jim grinned, rubbing his hands together and turning to Nyota to say, "Notify sickbay."

Nyota sneered and was about to really lay into him, but decided to turn around and comply. This was  _his_  test, not hers. Who was she to stand in his way if he wanted to make an idiot of himself?

"Should we raise shields? Prepare to fire phasers? Torpedoes? Anything?" scoffed the tactical officer.

"No," Kirk said, drumming his fingers on his chair's armrest.

" _No_?" the tactical officer sputtered. "But-"

"The Klingons have locked onto us with phasers," the science officer said behind him. The tactical officer turned back to his terminal, shaking his head.

" _We've been hit_ ," declared the tactical officer.

"Warp engines are offline and hull integrity is down to thirty percent," the science officer added.

"Continue to rescue the stranded passengers and crew of the  _Kobayashi Maru_ ," Kirk insisted.

"If we take another hit like that, we'll be destroyed," whined the engineering liaison.

"That  _would_  be a problem, huh?" Kirk chortled.

"Don't you at least want to fire back?" sneered the tactical officer.

"Of course not," Jim mocked. "That would start a war."

Nyota had been certain her opinion of the blond egotist couldn't get any lower, but this simulation was proving her wrong. He either wasn't taking this seriously or thought he was somehow too charmed to die. She prayed she'd never cross paths with him when he was in command, but she got the sense that he wouldn't live long enough to command a starship anyway. If this was how he approached his studies, it would be a miracle if he even graduated the Academy.

Nyota received notice from the notional transporter rooms. "All 67 crew and passengers of the  _Kobayashi Maru_  are aboard."

"Great, now let's get out of here," Kirk replied.

The engineering liaison cleared her throat. "I don't know if you remember, but we don't have warp drive."

"We have impulse engines, right?"

The engineering liaison gawked at him and started speaking but was instantly cut off by the tactical officer. "We've taken another direct hit to the starboard nacelle. All engines are offline and we have hull breaches and fires on decks four through twelve."

Kirk sighed and muttered, "Ok, I guess we can fire back. Notify sickbay to receive our injured crew."

"I hate to be the one to point this out," Nyota replied, toggling the switch to sickbay and receiving no response. "But sickbay is on Deck 5. I can't reach them."

"No, sickbay  _was_  on Deck 5," the science officer corrected. "It's _gone_."

"And the Klingons' shields are up," added the tactical officer.

For the first time in since they'd walked through the simulator, Nyota saw Kirk's expression darken. "Fire anyway. Photon torpedoes, not phasers."

The tactical officer rolled his eyes and returned to his screen but quickly shrugged. "Their shields are holding. Do you want me to try phasers?"

" _What_?" Kirk said, finally sitting up straight in his chair.

"What did you  _think_  would happen?" the tactical officer snapped.

Suddenly the light intensity increased and the computers disengaged, showing only a picture of the Academy's seal. The simulation was over. They'd all died.

"Cadets, please make your way out of the simulator and assemble downstairs in the debriefing room," called a pleasant voice over the intercom with a slight British accent.

Kirk said nothing but she could tell from the look on his face that he was genuinely confused about how he'd failed to beat the  _Kobayashi Maru_. No one beat this scenario: why did he think  _he_  could? He seemed to notice she was watching him because he glanced at her and she could no longer contain it – she burst into a fit of laughter.

He shot her an ugly look and Nyota hated herself for the smug sense of satisfaction that crept through her. She wasn't the kind of person who took delight in watching other people fail, but it felt good to watch James Kirk get knocked down a peg.

"I don't know what you thought you were playing at, Jim," said the tactical officer as they started filing out of the replica bridge. "You didn't beat it the first time either. I don't think anyone is  _supposed_  to beat this test."

"Wait, you've taken the  _Kobayashi Maru_  already?" Nyota interrupted.

"What do you care if I wanted to take it a second time?" he smirked.

"I care because you're wasting everyone's time. He's right," she said, gesturing to the dark-haired tactical officer with the slow drawl, "It's not a test you can pass. It's just a test you take."

"No," he retorted. "Every test can be passed."

She took a deep breath. "Do you even realize how arrogant you sound?"

She didn't feel like sticking around to hear his answer so she lengthened her stride and made her way down to the debriefing room. She couldn't wait to give her peer evaluation of  _Cadet Kirk, James Tiberius_. Her eyes were glued to her feet as she walked and muttered to herself about overconfidence and brashness, so it wasn't exactly surprising that she came around a corner too fast and slammed into someone.

"Ugh, I'm so-" It was Spock. "Sorry.  _Commander_. Commander Spock. I should have been watching where I was going."

"I believe we are mutually culpable," he replied, glancing down the hallway before adding more quietly, " _Check your messages_."

" _Huh_?" she mumbled, but he was already moving off down the hallway she'd just come from. Kirk and the cadet who'd served as the scenario's tactical officer were locked in a quiet but obviously heated discussion and nearly bumped into the lanky Vulcan, but Spock navigated around them and kept walking.

She hadn't checked her messages all morning, but her PADD had been stowed away in her bag in the personal items lockers by the debriefing room. She collected her things and took a seat around the room's central circular table, casually pulling her personal PADD from her shoulder bag and scrolling through her unread items until she found a short message from Spock's private account. It was short.

" _Are you able to meet at 1800 and available through Sunday evening_?"

She tried to keep from smiling and typed a quick affirmative reply. She had a lot of things she wanted to get done over the weekend, but nothing  _that_  pressing. Besides, her birthday was tomorrow. Even if Spock didn't know and would probably say celebrating birthdays was illogical, she couldn't think of a better way to ring in another year of life.

His reply was  _immediate_. No doubt he'd devised some kind of program to analyze her response and automatically send a reply based on her message's contents, but she didn't stop to think about it. His message read:

" _Meet me at the shuttleport at 1800. Pack supplies necessary to cope with daily precipitation and anticipate an average temperature of 15 degrees Celsius_."

Nyota's heart skipped a beat and she could no longer contain her smile. Who else would tell her to pack an umbrella and a light jacket in such a way? It wasn't just sweet; it was  _exciting_. Her boyfriend wanted to take her somewhere for the weekend, just like a normal relationship.

"Good afternoon, cadets," declared Lieutenant Ocampo, one of the test administrators. The cadets seated around the circular table sprung to their feet out of respect for his rank.

"As you were," he said, waving his hands dismissively. "I think we know why you're all here – we're here for a little after action review and peer evaluations for Cadet Kirk."

Nyota stole a glance at Kirk, secretly pleased to see him humbled, even if just a little bit. He was staring hard at his hands, which were folded neatly on the table. She wondered what was going through his mind.

"Well Cadet Kirk, how do you think you did?" asked Lieutenant Ocampo.

"I failed."

His simple admission made her smile. No one could beat the  _Kobayashi Maru_ , not even James Kirk. He thought he could just snap his fingers and have the universe bow to his will, and it was nice to see him proven wrong.

They spent the next twenty minutes discussing the simulation – what went wrong, what went right, what could have been improved upon and the overall outcome – and even the engineering liaison who clearly would have done anything to get Kirk to notice her had some harsh words for the cocky blond cadet. She hated herself for relishing the in the little roast, but he  _deserved_  it.

When they were dismissed, Nyota rushed from the training facility back to her dorm. She had five hours before she was supposed to meet Spock at the shuttleport and she wanted to make as much headway in her assignments as possible. She lived in a constant state of stress and pressure, always feeling behind yet always shoveling more on her plate. Everyone always told her she was going to burn herself out but she preferred to believe the hottest fires forged the strongest steel.

She checked her schedule and was stunned – there really wasn't much for her to do. She checked it again, making sure she wasn't forgetting anything, but when she thought about it, it wasn't  _that_  surprising. She'd had her nose to the grindstone for two straight weeks and her hard work had paid off.

She'd put in so many late nights in the short and mid-range sensor labs collecting data for her thesis that she was actually ahead of schedule. She still needed to collect long-range data, but she still had three months. Midterms were complete, she was on top of everything she needed to do to prepare for her final tactical training exercise that kicked off in two weeks, and though she had a paper due on Wednesday, she reasoned she could knock out a lot of the research and groundwork now and spend Monday night polishing it.

She made efficient use of her time and four hours later packed a few things in a small bag and hailed a taxi to take her to the shuttleport. She drummed her fingers on her canvas bag in anticipation, wondering where Spock planned on going and what they would do when they got there.

She strode into the shuttleport check-in lobby right at 1800 hours and found Spock seated on a bench immediately ahead, a small black bag sitting next to him.

"Hi," she said, smiling and resisting the urge to hug him.

"Hello," he replied, rising to his feet and placing his bag over his shoulder.

"So, where are we going?"

"I intended to follow your example from our previous outing and attempt something…  _spontaneous_."

She offered a huge grin and inched closer to him. "That doesn't answer the question."

"I am aware tomorrow is the anniversary if your birth and know it is customary to celebrate this occasion among your species."

She was floored.  _How had he known_?

"I was uncertain what a fitting gift would be as human gift exchange seems to be a far more complex undertaking among humans than Vulcans. Yet I recall during our first intimate encounter, you expressed an interest in visiting a beach that reminded you of your home in Mombasa. I am aware you are unable to leave the North American continent without a formal pass, so I conducted research to find the most suitable alternative within an area you are permitted to travel and have identified several sites along the southeastern coast and in the Gulf of Mexico which you may find appropriate."

Her mouth drifted open in shock. He was taking her to the beach? For her birthday? How could he always manage to be so full of surprises?

He extracted a small hand-sized PADD from his pocket and offered it to her. "I have selected thirteen possible locations and-"

"When's the next shuttle to any of them?" Nyota interrupted.

"There is a shuttle departing for Pensacola, Florida in thirty-four minutes," he replied.

She handed the PADD back without looking at it. "Pensacola sounds perfect."

"You do not wish to consider the options?" he asked.

"I want the option that allows me to spend as much time with you as your girlfriend as possible," she explained.

He almost seemed confused that she would refuse to scrutinize his careful research and she wondered if she'd hurt his feelings. Then he nodded, tucked the PADD back into his pocket, and she remembered he didn't put a lot of stock in feelings. As they walked to the ticket kiosk, it took everything she had not to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him.

"You're incredible, you know that?"

"No," he replied. "Incredible implies a thing which is beyond belief, and yet I exist."

Nyota gave him a warm smile and nodded. She'd never had a boyfriend quite like Spock.


	19. The Story of T'hy'la

They strolled out of the shuttle terminal in Pensacola at 2232 hours. The air was humid and cool and Spock noticed a wide smile stretch across Nyota's face as she inhaled deeply.

"Well, where to?" she asked, tossing him a careless look.

"I secured accommodations during our shuttle flight," he replied.

They stopped at a taxi stand and Spock's eyes came to rest on the handsome young woman at his side. Her hair neat and tidy – bound in the "ponytail" style that she often wore in uniform. She wore tailored trousers and a loose blouse and Spock couldn't help but notice the top two buttons were unsecured, offering a fleeting glimpse of the soft curvature of her breastbone. When his eyes reached her face, he found it aglow with vibrant emotion.

"I can't help feeling like I just want to hug you and kiss you and tell you thank you about a hundred times," she mused.

Spock hesitated. He knew most humans had few if any reservations about public displays of affection, but the same was not true for Vulcans. Aside from occasional ozh'esta between formal bondmates or parents caring for very small children, Vulcans rarely if ever touched  _anyone_  in public settings.

"Don't worry; I won't," she laughed after observing his reaction. "But I will say thank you again."

"You thanked me nine times on the shuttle," he reminded. "And while your gratitude is appreciated, additional thanks are redundant and unnecessary."

A bright blue taxi drifted toward the curb and Nyota took a step forward and glanced over her shoulder at Spock. They slipped into the narrow backseat and Spock gave the driver the address to the Atlantic Vista Hotel, and soon the vehicle was navigating through heavy evening traffic toward their destination. Nyota gazed through the windows at the illuminated skyline.

"You must be West Coasters," the driver announced. Spock disliked the human propensity toward irrelevant small talk, but understood it was necessary for correct social interaction.

"What makes you say that?" Nyota asked.

"Rides usually pick up this time of night with people coming in from four time zones away. Weekenders, I call them. So, you two here on business?"

" _Pleasure_ , actually," Nyota answered.

" _Really_?" the driver responded, the pitch of his voice raised a half octave.

"Indeed," Spock affirmed.

"That's  _great_ ," the driver replied, putting unusual emphasis on the latter word. "I mean, love is love, right?"

Spock was unsure how to respond. He wasn't in love with Nyota: he held her in the highest regard and found himself physically drawn to her, but love implied some deep emotional construct. He did not  _love_  her. It immediately occurred to him that the definition of "love" was rather vague, denoting an intense feeling of affection. What was an appropriate level of intensity?

He felt Nyota's warm hand sliding underneath his on the seat. Her skin was soft and cool to the touch, and when her forefingers brushed against his, the sensation was nearly electric. He did not look at her – he preferred to avoid stimulating emotions within himself that he would only have to repress – but could feel her eyes upon him.

The taxi driver kept quiet for the remainder of their twenty-minute drive to their lodgings. Spock and Nyota checked in without incident and rode the lift to the twelfth floor. He had requested a room with a single bed – the second bed had proved extraneous during their previous encounter – but seeing Nyota stare at the room's central feature gave him cause to reconsider his selection.

"Is this acceptable?" he asked.

" _Very_ ," she grinned. "As long as  _you're_  fine with it."

A device in Nyota's bag started to chirp. She pulled her PADD from her bag, made a worried face, silenced it, and then stuffed it back in with the rest of her belongings. "So, what do you want to do?"

"I researched several locations to take a suitable end meal," Spock replied. "I have noticed your affinity for-"

The PADD in Nyota's bag erupted in another chorus of alarm. She sighed. "It's my mother; do you mind if I talk to her for a minute? Otherwise, she'll just keep calling."

"Certainly," Spock replied.

Nyota grabbed the device and marched toward the door to the small patio. "Habari za asubuhi, mama."

A soft string of unintelligible speech rang from the PADD, and Nyota replied, "No, mama, I'm in Florida."

She slid the door closed and Spock could hear her speaking with a woman using a curious mixture of Federation Standard and a language he deduced to be Kiswahili. He had never heard her speak in her native tongue, though perhaps it was more correct to say her  _other_  native language. All children on Earth and most children throughout the Federation now learned Federation Standard English from the moment they entered school.

Many linguists considered a number of Earth languages to be on the verge of extinction, but there had been pushback in recent decades to revive some of them. Spock occasionally heard students around campus speaking in Chinese or German, and most of the alien students reverted to the languages of their home worlds during off-duty hours.

Spock was truly bilingual. He'd grown up speaking English with his mother and Vuhlkansu with his father, and though he thought in both languages, the particular language of choice depended on the subject matter. On scientific or professional matters, he tended to think in Vuhlkansu, but it occurred to him that most of his thoughts concerning Nyota took place in English.  _Fascinating_.

Rather than eavesdrop on her conversation, he pulled his own PADD from his pocket and checked his messages, discovering an unanticipated missive from James T. Kirk.

_Commander Spock –_

_Thank you for the opportunity to take the Kobayashi Maru a second time, but if I could get just one more crack at it, I'd be eternally grateful._

_Thanks again,_

_James Tiberius Kirk, cadet_

Spock considered his highly informal and odd request. "Eternally grateful" seemed a rather excessive exaggeration.

The simulation that morning had been fraught with unusual glitches and malfunctions, and following his early classes, he'd gone to the simulator decks to troubleshoot the problem and he'd spent the afternoon with several members of the Academy computer science faculty debugging the simulator.

The errors were unanticipated. The last patches and add-ons had been added more than three months earlier and the simulator had worked adequately in that time period. In the end, he'd been unable to isolate the source of the problem and had assigned three senior students, Cadets Chekov, Gaila, and Maloney, to reinstall the original programming and debug the simulator over the weekend.

Repairing the _Kobayashi_   _Maru_  simulator was a low priority, because all command track students had successfully completed it and it would not need to be utilized again until the upcoming fall term. If the undergraduate teaching aides could not get the simulator functioning properly, he would have to deny the request. He considered whether he should allow a third attempt anyway.

Spock was not familiar with James Kirk, but he'd casually observed his test from the observation deck as he scanned through the most recent patches to the program. The cadet was overconfident and brash and hadn't seemed to take the simulation seriously. Why should he indulge Kirk's human need to overcome the impossible?

He quickly dictated a short message refusing Kirk's request and as he hit send, Nyota reappeared in the patio doorway. "I swear, I love my mother, but she can be so..."

Spock tilted his chin and waited for her to finish her sentence. Nyota shrugged and moved to her bag to begin the process of unpacking. "She's very nosey, and bossy, and pushy. I told her I was in Florida and now she wants to meet you."

Spock recalled Gaila's checklist and decided now that he and Nyota were engaged in the practice of dating, meeting her family seemed an appropriate step. Nyota had already met his mother, and Amanda had openly admitted her admiration for his potential bondmate.

"I look forward to meeting her also," Spock replied.

" _What_?" Nyota froze, her ashen face locked in an expression of shock.

"I look forward to meeting your mother," he repeated.

"I didn't tell her about you, she just  _assumed_ I was here with a guy and I can't lie to my mother. She sees right through me."

"Her assumption, however illogical, was correct."

"I've never taken anyone home to meet my family," Nyota added, folding a loose shirt and putting it in a drawer. "I mean, not like  _that_."

Spock did not know what meeting someone's family "like that" meant. "Why?"

"I've never had any  _serious_  boyfriends," she admitted. "And we only started dating a few weeks ago.  _And_  you were my teacher. I just don't know what she would say."

"You imply she would not approve."

"I don't care if she approves," Nyota snapped. She caught sight of Spock's face and her expression relaxed. "Well, ok, she's my mother; I care a  _lot_."

"Then introduce us," Spock insisted.

"Meeting someone's family is something you usually do in a more serious stage of the relationship, you know, after you've dated a while," Nyota explained.

"If her good opinion is essential to the selection of your mate, would it not be logical to introduce me to her now? In the event she does not approve, severing our bond at this early stage will be a less arduous process."

"You would seriously break up with me if my mom didn't like you?" she scoffed.

"No," Spock replied. "That would be your decision. But the bond between a parent and child in unique, much like the bond between mates."

"So if your mom didn't like me, would you have ever asked me out?"

Spock reflected on her question. "I do not believe so."

Nyota's mouth drifted open before forming into a crooked smile. She donned a light sweater and said, "Now, dinner. End meal. Aru-yem. What are we having?"

They wandered from the hotel room and Nyota listened as Spock outlined the eateries he'd researched. She settled for the seafood restaurant next door, and ten minutes later they were seated as a small, round table next to a large glass wall that overlooked the ocean. The atmosphere was subdued; there were few other diners, probably due to the late hour.

Nyota propped her chin on her fist and gazed at the whitecaps rolling over the waves in the distance. She seemed content just to watch the flow of water, and Spock felt content to watch her.

"So what about your father?" she asked suddenly.

"What about him?"

"Would  _he_  approve of me?"

"I am uncertain."

She frowned and bit her lip. "What if he doesn't?"

"He has not approved of many of the decisions of my adult life," Spock replied. "I do not concern myself with his opinions."

"Your dad seems like a touchy subject," she mumbled. "I didn't mean to stir up anything."

"Your question was relevant, therefore your apology is illogical," Spock dismissed. "What of your father?"

Nyota turned to face the swell of the ocean again and grimaced. "He's dead. We  _think_."

Spock said nothing but watched her for some cue on how to respond. Her eyes wandered back to his face and she frowned.

"He was in shipping. He did several tours with the Terran Merchant Marines. He left for a deep space mission the day after my twelfth birthday and never came home. They never found out what happened to the  _Zacapa_."

"I grieve with thee." Sadness didn't suit her. He extended his hand and traced his forefingers along hers. She glanced at his gesture and offered a pained smile.

"My mother was  _so_  angry when I told her I still wanted to join Starfleet; I still don't think she's quite forgiven me. It turns out my little brother Malcolm is talking about joining now too. She blames me."

"How are you to blame for your brother's decision?" Spock asked.

"I'm  _not_ ," she sighed. "Malcolm has always been interested in space and science, like me. We take after my dad, who always said he wanted to join Starfleet but didn't because my mother would worry too much."

"Are you two ready to order?" interrupted a short young waitress.

"Oh,  _yeah_ ," Nyota mumbled, flipping through the menu screen. "Um… the seaweed paella looks good."

"I shall have the same," Spock added, without taking his eyes from his dining partner.

When they were alone again, Nyota scanned the sparsely populated room and reached for Spock's hands. "Thank you for this."

"That is your eleventh offer of gratitude," Spock reminded her. "I feel compelled to thank you for agreeing to come."

"How could I  _not_  agree?" she laughed. "This is the best birthday present ever and besides, I've been thinking about seeing you ever since our last trip to Vegas. My life has been nothing but studying and haunting the mid-range sensor labs all night trying to collect data for my thesis. I got my subroutines worked out and I can differentiate patterns…"

Her voice trailed off and she drummed her fingers on the tablecloth. "And you're no longer my advisor and we agreed not to talk about professional or academic things."

"There is one professional matter I wished to discuss with you," Spock admitted. "Though it also relates to personal matters."

" _Really_?" She took a sip of her water. "How so?"

"When we spoke at the marine observatory, you mentioned your trepidation about pursuing a relationship with me, only to later be separated by conflicting assignments."

"Well,  _yeah_ ," she said, folding her hands on the table. "I may graduate and never see you again."

"You requested  _Enterprise_  as your first choice of assignment. The ship's captain, Christopher Pike, tasked me with selecting twelve cadets with exemplary records for a post-graduate assignment to  _Enterprise_. After careful review, I submitted your name."

Her mouth fell open and she took a deep breath. She was about to speak with the server deposited their food on the table. Nyota mumbled her thanks and stared at the bright, yellow dish.

"Are you displeased?" Spock asked.

Nyota picked up her fork and shook her head. "Not at all. I'm not really sure what to say.  _Thank you_ , I guess."

"You have nothing for which to thank me," he replied. "Are you reconsidering your request?"

Nyota took a bite and smiled. "No. Not even a little bit. I just- can I ask- you didn't submit my name because…" Her free left hand waved back and forth between them.

"You were an exceptional applicant," Spock informed her. "I initially felt compelled to select another cadet with a concentration in communications to avoid any appearance of favoritism, but when I considered the data, you were consistently superior to your peers. Yours was the correct name to submit to Captain Pike if I were to consider myself truly impartial."

A deep grin spread across her lips and the color of her cheeks started to deepen. "Well, thank you then, I guess."

"As I said, you have nothing for which to thank me; the credit belongs to you and your exceptional effort during your time at the Academy."

"So now what?" Nyota asked.

"You will be assigned to  _Enterprise_."

"Right, where you'll be the first officer and I'll be a communications ensign."

"Starfleet's fraternization policy is especially vague as it relates to relationships between permanent personnel."

"I haven't actually researched it," Nyota admitted. "Maybe I should."

They ate the remainder of their meal quickly and quietly. Nyota finished first and reached for her bag and extracted her chip card.

"Is it not appropriate for me to purchase the evening's meal?" Spock asked. "It is your birthday, after all."

"True," Nyota smiled. "But thanks to your Vegas shenanigans, I still have nearly 9,000 credits in my account. And you paid for the shuttle and the hotel."

"If you insist," Spock acquiesced.

She grinned as she inserted her card into the small screen at the edge of the table and keyed in several codes. "You know what I love about you?"

Spock considered her question and presumed it was rhetorical, but he also contemplated her use of the word "love." It was the second time that day he'd been confronted with the idea.

"I love that you don't play any of the silly games that characterize most early relationships," she finished.

"Clarify."

"Normally this would be a five minute argument about who should pay and it would go back and forth because of all these unwritten, antiquated rules about chivalry and gender roles."

"You presented a valid argument," Spock replied, finishing the last of his food and setting the fork down with a gentle  _clink_.

"I  _did_ , didn't I?" she laughed. "So thanks for being logical about it."

They stood and left the quiet restaurant and wandered into the cool night. It was warmer than San Francisco had been, but Spock still shivered from a slight breeze blowing in from the water.

"Would you like to return to the hotel?"

"Uh,  _no_ ," Nyota said, shooting him a pointed look and waving her arms at the wide expanse of sand and water that lay a hundred meters in the distance. "You brought me here to take me to the beach. We're going to the beach."

Spock had assumed the beach was a location most people visited during daylight hours, but there were a handful of people wandering the shore – several joggers, a woman walking a dog, adolescents chasing each other with flashlights.

They stepped from the wooden walkway onto a blanket of plush sand, and Nyota kicked off her shoes and wriggled her toes in the sand. She giggled and shifted her weight from her toes to her heels. Her delight was…  _refreshing_.

"I'll never get tired of the feeling of sand between my toes," she sighed. "You should try it."

"I would prefer to retain my footwear," he replied, gazing at random piles of shells and small pieces of driftwood. "There appears to be a significant amount of debris."

"Your loss," she shrugged, skipping out toward the ocean. She walked ahead of him and stopped ten meters before the water. "I wish it weren't so cold. I haven't gone swimming in forever."

Spock stopped at her left shoulder and peered out at the black stretch of water. The air held a rich saline quality that reminded him of a more humid version of Vulcan's Forge.

"Do you like to swim?" Nyota asked, putting her hands on her hips and turning toward him.

"No," he confessed. "Vulcans do not tend to be adept swimmers, particularly males."

"Really? You excel at just about everything else," she replied. "There was a Vulcan girl in my first year athletics class who could run a 5K in about twelve minutes without even looking winded."

"Vulcans have a lung capacity approximately twice that of humans, due to evolution on a planet with increased gravity and a thinner atmosphere. We also have far greater muscular efficiency allowing for superior strength and endurance compared to humans."

"So why are you bad at swimming?"

"Low body fat and high bone density decreases buoyancy, which makes us less efficient in the water," he explained.

"Awe, so you  _sink_ ," she laughed. "I guess it makes sense though. Vulcan is a pretty dry planet – I can't imagine there was much evolutionary pressure to turn out good swimmers."

Nyota flopped down and ran her fingers through the thick sand. Spock observed her for a moment before taking a seat beside her.

"It's amazing how many stars you can still see through the light of the city," she announced, pointing her finger at a bright trio of stars that Spock knew to be colloquially referred to as "Orion's Belt."

Before the Time of the Awakening, ancient Vulcans had contrived a number of myths and theories about celestial objects, but ancient humans had been far more curious about the heavens than their Vulcan counterparts. Despite being geographically separated by massive oceans, almost all human cultures seemed to have an innate drive to survey the night sky and find meaning beyond the confines of their planet, even before they'd developed the science to understand what stars and space were.

"I guess that's home…  _Alam'ak_ ," she mused, squinting and pointing to a faint star in the sky next to a much brighter star Spock recognized as Rigel's sun.

Her reference to the central star of his own system surprised him. "Do you know much of Vulcan astronomy?"

"Not really," she admitted. "But when we were little kids, my dad used to take us on camping trips to the Serengeti during school breaks. He would bring his telescope and we would take turns searching for comets and roast maize and marshmallows over a campfire while he told us stories about the constellations."

Spock had undertaken similar childhood missions with his own father in the desert surrounding their family estate. Most of their discussions had been scientific in nature, but occasionally they spoke of the old myths of his people surrounding the heavens.

"I know little of the specifics of Terran astronomical mythology," he conceded.

"Really?" she asked, facing him with a look of wonder. "Care for a lesson?"

Spock enjoyed the pleasant quality of her voice and the way her eyes lit up when she discussed things on which she was well versed. He readily agreed to her tutelage.

"So, Vulcan's sun falls in a constellation that the Greeks called Eridanus," she began. "It's represented as a celestial river that eventually became associated with the Po River in Northern Italy. They associated the constellation with the tragic story of Phaëton, the son of Helios the sun god and Clymene. Phaëton drove his father's chariot across the sky but couldn't control the horses, and the chariot fell to Earth and caught it on fire. It was their theory for how parts of Northern Africa became a desert."

"A peculiar story," Spock replied.

"Well, ancient cultures had a lot of weird explanations for things," she confessed, flashing him a wide smile. "On a more scientific note, your star system was also used to verify Einstein's theory of relativity by showing that the white dwarf's spectral lines are redshifted by gravity."

"Fascinating," he replied, regarding her carefully. He knew little of the history of Earth's scientific discoveries, but that was not what impressed him. He was more captivated by Nyota's quick mind and impeccable memory for facts.

"Your turn," she replied.

"Clarify."

"To tell me a story about the stars."

He glanced at the sky and considered her question. He recalled his father telling him the ancient story of his mother's home system and decided it would be appropriate.

"Your sun was known to ancient Vulcans as Dar-al."

"Second brother?" she asked thoughtfully.

"Yes," he replied. "The triple star system which you refer to as Alpha Centauri is not visible from this hemisphere, but ancient Vulcans called it Nen-al."

"The first brother," she added.

"Yes. Together they comprised the two stars known as t'hy'la, according to Vulcan legend."

"T'hy'la? I've never heard that term," Nyota said, furrowing her brow.

"It is an archaic expression which has no direct translation into Federation Standard," he explained. "It loosely implies a lifelong companion, like a brother or a bondmate."

" _Fascinating_ ," she replied, trying to imitate his usual tone.

The reflection of the half moon in her eyes made them appear particularly radiant. He reached for her hand in the sandy soil but she pulled away and kissed him instead. Though he saw her movement and anticipated her action, the warm press of her mouth caught him off-guard and filled him with a sudden hunger he couldn't describe.

He nearly withdrew from her affections but the tingling sensation of her hand on his chest made him momentarily weak. He slid his tongue across her teeth and felt her hands exploring his torso before coming to rest on his wrists. Her fingers trailed down the slope of his knuckles and he felt himself becoming lost to her. For several seconds, he completely forgot they were in a public setting. He  _wanted_  her.

" _Ahhh_!" Nyota shrieked. Spock recoiled, both from surprise at her reaction and the pain still ringing in his ears.

Nyota leapt to her feet and danced around on the sand before bending forward at the waist and laughing. Spock glanced around in confusion before spying the small crustacean skittering away toward the water.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," she hissed through her giggles. "The crab – it climbed on my foot!"

Why had she insisted on removing her shoes? Spock stood and took a deep breath to collect his logical faculties. Nyota grabbed both of his hands and leaned toward him to renew their previous encounter, but Spock took a step back.

"Perhaps we could return to the hotel," he said.

Nyota's eyes narrowed and she looked around at the few people milling around near the water and nodded. "Lead the way."


	20. For the First Time

Nyota felt herself melting into a pool of nervous energy as they rode the lift back to their suite on the twelfth floor. The moment Spock opened the door and she caught sight of the single bed, she felt a pull in her belly that startled her. She couldn't remember ever being so turned on.

She was grateful for the curious crab's interruption, otherwise she'd probably have sand in places she didn't want to think about or be soaked from an unanticipated freezing tide. Besides, they had been on an open beach and people who made grand displays of intimacy in public annoyed her. Why had she let herself get carried away? Why had _Spock_?

He shut the door gently behind them but he lingered in the entryway. She turned slowly to her right and was instantly struck by the intensity of his eyes. She swallowed and took a step forward, and soon they were a tumble of frantic kisses and limbs, exploring, searching, and indulging.

Nyota fell back on the bed and he lowered himself onto her. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and drew his body into hers. He was solid and heavy in a way she hadn't anticipated, a mass of sinewy muscle and dense bone. She rocked her hips into him and he pressed back, harder and more aggressively.

She grabbed his neck, cupping her hands around his jaw to deliver a hungry kiss but her middle and index fingers slipped and slid along his cheek. For several seconds, her thoughts were a nonsensical jumble and she realized what she'd done. The only thing he'd asked her _not_ to do.

" _Sorry_ ," she yelped, ripping her hands away from his face to break the mind meld. "I'm _sorry_."

Spock stiffened and pushed himself up, locking his elbows. Her legs fell from his sides and she wriggled upward as Spock sat back on his haunches. "I'm so sorry, Spock."

Her words were a whisper and for a second, she wondered if she'd actually even said them aloud.

"Do not be," he replied, resting his dark eyes on her.

She twisted her legs around to sit on her left thigh and leaned forward. She was still breathing heavily from their second near miss at sex, but she sensed the moment was quickly fading. Why couldn't they ever seem to get this right?

"I didn't mean to… _you know_."

"I could have chosen to break contact with you, but I did not," he replied.

She sighed. "It was the heat of the moment and-"

"You were attracted to me on the shuttle," he interrupted, looking down at the gray comforter.

" _What_?"

"The first time you experienced attraction toward me was during our joint repair of the bone knitter's microassembly, when we were marooned on the planetoid near the Briar Patch."

She peered at him, only dimly aware her mouth was hanging open. Why was he bringing that up _now_? She could feel every muscle in her face contracting into an expression of confusion and impatience.

"I- I don't- _what_?"

"You did not consciously know it then," he continued.

" _Ok_?" she whined. "Where are you going with this?"

"When our minds met, I was briefly privy to both your conscious and subconscious thoughts. It is unusual for an indirect meld to link to such a hidden region of the mind, but yours seems to be particularly active."

Nyota blinked and tried to wrap her head around what he'd just said. She hadn't been attracted to him back then. Not even _close_. She'd thought of him as an unfeeling robot, a guy who happened to be her commanding officer that she had to get along with to survive.

"No, I don't think so," she finally declared.

"It is the truth," Spock replied.

"I didn't like you until…" She thought about it, scrolling through the whole of their personal and professional relationship, from the first time she saw him during her xenolinguistics programming lab in her second year up until the present.

"The subconscious mind is frequently aware of many things the conscious mind is not," Spock countered. She wasn't really listening.

She first realized she liked Spock when he stopped wanting to be her thesis advisor. Maybe it served as proof that a person didn't really know what they had until it was gone.

Or had it been when he'd walked her back to her dorm room after she'd gotten locked out? Or had it been one morning when she woke up to the sweet smell of chrysanthemums? What a strange thing love was.

No, not _love_. She didn't _love_ Spock. The idea was ludicrous, _so_ ludicrous in fact that she laughed aloud, earning her a peculiar stare from the man she was definitely _not_ in love with. His expression was patient and curious and when their eyes finally met, she felt a flutter in her stomach. She didn't intend to scowl, but she didn't like being sideswiped by the idea that she felt stronger feelings for the man sitting across from her than she realized.

"Perhaps we should-"

"When did you first realize you were attracted to me?" she interrupted.

There was a fractional shift in his eyes. "I do not know."

"How can you _not_ know, if you can figure out what _my_ mind what thinking before I even knew it myself?"

"It is difficult for an individual to reconcile the subconscious mind with the conscious," he explained.

" _Try_."

"It is not so simple," he insisted. "Even intensive meditation barely penetrates the subconscious' surface."

They were talking in circles. Nyota closed her eyes in frustration, but was struck by the memory of their time on the shuttle. She remembered repairing the bone knitter. They had been reaching for the same screwdriver when their fingers brushed and she experienced the familiar feeling of euphoria that came with ozh'esta. Something was off – she didn't remember feeling anything like that at the time, and then she realized she wasn't experiencing _her_ memory, she was experiencing _his_.

She closed her eyes tighter and replayed the events in her mind. Her first attempt at fixing the bone knitter hadn't worked, and she'd gotten frustrated.

_Her eyes light up when she's angry._

She shook her head and opened her eyes to find Spock gazing at her, his face bearing an expectant look. She couldn't tell whether this memory was hers or his or _both_.

"You think my eyes are pretty when I'm angry," she whispered.

He cocked his head and considered her statement. After a few moments he nodded and said, "So they are."

She closed her eyes again and tried to allow herself to drift back into the past. A different memory resurfaced and her cheeks burned. They were on the shuttle again and her flight suit was hanging down from her waist. Her black undershirt was pulled up and she was in his arms.

"Nyota?"

Her concentration broke and the memory was gone and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't retrieve it. All she could remember were her own memories of the incident, and she'd worked hard to forget about it because it had been so embarrassing. She opened her eyes and sighed. A tiny, crooked smile stretched across her lips as she thought about that mortifying incident on the _Dalton II_.

She'd broken her ribs in the crash and Spock had helped mend them. She'd nearly fainted at first from the pain, but he'd caught her in time. Eventually she'd had to take off her undershirt and unclasp her bra for him to finish treating the broken bones. His fingers had even stroked the side of her left breast on accident.

_She's warm and soft and smells of a pleasing scent._

Her eyes widened along with her smile.

"You were attracted to me on the shuttle too," she announced. "You thought I smelled nice. You thought I was _soft_."

This was clearly a revelation to him. He cocked an eyebrow and broke eye contact. Nyota refused to stop smiling.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," she added.

"Embarrassment-"

"Is illogical, I know," she finished, allowing her smile to fade.

" _I_ was kind of embarrassed back then, but I never thought it had anything to do with being attracted to you," she admitted. "Wait, are you _sure_ I was attracted to you back then?"

He gave her a pointed look that made her feel silly for asking. How much more to Spock was there? How much more to _her_ was there? The silence grew uncomfortable, but Nyota reached out her fingers to his, seeking the comfort of the Vulcan finger embrace. The instant their skin made contact, a tiny spark of static electricity discharged.

"Oops," she chuckled, pulling her hand back.

She inched forward along the bedspread until she was close enough to lean forward and kiss him, but he didn't respond to her touch. She pressed harder with her lips, but still nothing.

"Spock?"

She drew away, peering anxiously at him. His eyes seemed unfocused and far away, leaving her to wonder what she'd done. She hated that she could never figure out what he was thinking.

"Spock, what's wrong?"

"Will you consent to mind meld with me?" he asked, his eyes snapping into focus.

"What?"

"Will you consent to mind meld with me?" he repeated.

"Yeah, I heard you the first time; it's only that the last time we were together, you said you didn't want to until we got to know each other better. You called it an 'intimate telepathic link.'"

"I am aware of what I said," he replied.

"So what changed your mind?"

"Your mind is very… _intriguing_."

Nyota rolled her eyes. "That's probably true for anyone."

"Your sarcastic gesture implies you are not interested in my proposal."

"I didn't say that," she retorted, shifting her body to sit cross-legged.

"Then do you consent?"

Nyota's teeth nibbled on the lining of her cheek. He looked so sweet and serious at the same time, all while still preserving his usual resigned exterior. How did he do that? Maybe it was in the eyes.

"Sure, I guess," she sighed. "I don't really know what I'm doing though, so do you want to be the one or should I?"

"I will do it, if you choose to consent," he replied. "Every mind meld poses certain risks, but an improperly performed meld even more so."

Nyota froze. "What do you mean, _risks_?"

"Even with a proper meld, there are possible side-effects, though most are mild and temporary – mental exhaustion, emotional transference, and momentary loss of identity are sometimes reported."

"Loss of _identity_?" She tried to keep her voice steady, but wasn't sure how successful she was.

"The transfer of mental patterns can sometimes cause confusion for both participants, particularly when they are well-acquainted and have shared many similar experiences. One person may remember certain events differently than the other, or have conflicting emotions about it."

Nyota thought back to Spock mending her broken ribs on the shuttle and remembered experiencing his thoughts and mistaking them for her own.

"What about side effects that _aren't_ mild?"

"Sustained contact with the wrong series of pressure points can result in a degenerative neurological disorder referred to as Pa'nar Syndrome-"

Nyota's eyes widened, and Spock, sensing her trepidation, added, "Though it is known that this condition only affects Vulcans. _You_ could not be harmed."

"But _you_ could be?" she asked.

"I am well trained in the practice of mind melding," he replied.

"So you've done it before?"

"Many times."

"On humans?"

"Once."

Nyota shot him a stern look, and he added, "There is only a singular difference between our species' pressure points; it is located in the brow. I do not intend to make use of this point for the type of meld I wish to perform."

"The _type_ of meld?"

"There are numerous types of mind melds: some explore the active mind, others the passive, while others are critical to functions such as neurological regeneration or pair bonding."

"And which kind are you wanting to do with me?"

"I wish to explore your subconscious mind."

She frowned. The idea of someone playing around in a part of her mind that _she_ was poorly acquainted with didn't sound very appealing. "I don't know…"

"I understand your trepidation, however, I would never intentionally access memories or thoughts without your consent, and were I do to so by accident, I would never disclose them to anyone else. There is a very strict code of ethics involved."

Despite his reassurances, she felt less sure than before. The whole idea seemed creepy. Like anyone else, she had secrets and memories that she preferred to keep private. That was the beauty of the concept of her mind – it was _hers_ and hers alone.

"Your silence suggests deliberation," he said.

"Well, _yeah_ ; it's a lot to think about. A minute ago when I did it by accident, I had no idea you would find out my innermost thoughts about you back when we were stranded. You found something about me that even _I_ didn't know. That's _weird_."

"I am willing to open my mind to you in return," he offered. "Though I respect your decision, if you elect to refuse."

Nyota swallowed and turned her head to stare at the wall. She liked Spock a lot but they'd only started dating. Of course, less than ten minutes ago she'd been eager to share her body with him, so why not share her mind?

"Ok," she murmured, wondering how much she was going to regret this.

Spock's eyes flicked from her eyes to her mouth. "You are certain? I do not wish to coerce you-"

"Yes, Spock, just do it. I'll admit I'm a little afraid you're going to find out what a brat I was as a kid or experience every teenage crush I had, but whatever."

He canted his head to the left. "Would you be more at ease exploring my subconscious mind first?"

She couldn't help it: she laughed nervously. "I don't really know how."

"Once a meld is in place, the ability should come naturally," Spock explained. "I shall refrain from touching your mind until you are ready."

The idea _was_ pretty tempting. She always wondered what flowed beneath his unexpressive Vulcan exterior, and here was her chance to find out.

"Ok." The word came out almost as a sigh.

"You are ready?"

She shrugged and gave him a weak smile. "Not really, but how do you get ready for something like this?"

Spock's head titled further to the left and she rolled her eyes again. "Just do it. _Please_. You have my permission."

Spock raised his right hand and held it up to her right cheek. His hand was warm, _hot_ , almost. She smiled, uncertain if the involuntary expression came from fear, anticipation, or pleasure. He pulled his palm away from her face, leaving his fingertips pressed against her jaw, cheek, and eye socket. She laughed at the absurdity of the gesture. He withdrew his hand.

"Sorry," she sighed, quickly getting herself under control. "I didn't know what you were going to do. I'm a little nervous."

"It will not cause you injury."

"I know," she huffed. "Please, let's try again."

Spock nodded and returned his hand to her cheek. For several moments nothing happened and she started to feel a little ridiculous but _then_ … the horizon of her mind faded. She explored the falling boundaries, sensing vibrant calmness and rigid order. She pushed harder, marveling at the new experience.

She quickly started to feel euphoric and almost overwhelmed. The more she allowed her mind to wander, the further away she got from anything that was familiar. It was exhilarating and terrifying, like diving into the ocean and swimming deeper into the darkness and away from the safety of the surface.

She could hear voices far in the distance, speaking quickly and fluidly. _Vuhlkansu_.

As the voices grew louder, they became more intelligible and despite Vuhlkansu not being her native tongue, she found she understood the words as easily as if she'd spoken it all her life. She was suddenly hit by unexpected shame and rage.

" _He has human eyes. They look sad, don't they_?"

" _Perhaps an emotional response requires physical stimuli_."

" _He's a traitor, you know_ …"

She could feel the anger threatening to boil over, but the voices faded. She struggled to hear, but the experience was gone. Then another powerful emotion struck her – loneliness, a solitude so profound she felt like the only person in existence.

Glimpses and sensations flashed through her consciousness. The air was hot and smelled of alkaline dust. There was a sensation of gritty hair between her fingers – no, not hair, _fur_ – and the howl of a quick breeze in her ears.

" _Come, I-Chaya."_

Who was I-Chaya? Suddenly she felt very afraid. Something was coming for her, but she couldn't see anything except a tall, long mountain range in the distance. The sky was yellow and the sun was small and vivid white.

Nyota probed at the memory but couldn't make any sense of it. She pushed harder, searching for the source of danger, but all she could see were glimpses of the mountains and the form of a large dog. No, not a dog. _Not quite_.

The terror continued to swell and Nyota tried to run, but she had no control over her surroundings. She tried to scream, but she had no voice.

"Nyota?"

She jumped, reeling away from the sound of her name. It was soft and sounded like it came from an overhead loudspeaker. The vision disappeared and she drew in a ragged breath. She opened her eyes to see Spock staring at her intently.

When had she closed her eyes? What was happening? Had she had a bad dream?

She blinked several times and the situation started to make more sense. She had been mind melding with Spock, and the scene had to be one of his memories.

"That was so… _surreal_ ," she choked.

"You have a very forceful mind," he replied.

"Huh?"

"Your mind is clumsy and untrained, but it is remarkably powerful."

She swallowed a deep breath, trying to slow her anxious panting and recall what she'd seen. Like a dream, the details were already growing fuzzy.

"Who's I-Chaya?"

Even Spock with all his logical discipline couldn't hide the subtle flash of surprise that streaked across his face. "I-Chaya was a sehlat. He was my animal companion as a child."

"You had a _pet_?" she asked, smiling. What a delightful thought – Spock with a childhood animal friend.

"I considered him more than a pet," Spock explained.

Nyota smiled. It didn't surprise her that the stoic Vulcan would express tenderness toward animals.

"I had two cats growing up," she confessed. "I named them Utundu and Mwombaji."

"My mother possessed a Terran feline called Euclid," Spock replied.

Nyota leaned back on her hands and gazed at the ceiling. "Were you hurt in the dust storm?"

"Clarify."

"You were walking somewhere with I-Chaya; there were mountains in the background and the sun was overhead but it was being obscured by the dust. I was – I mean _you_ were..."

She nearly told him about how she intuited just how lonely and afraid he'd been, but she didn't want to poke at a vulnerable part of his psyche.

"Dust and electrical storms are common in Vulcan's Forge. I was never injured in one."

"It felt kind of like a cross between déjà vu and dreaming," Nyota continued. "It was like I was there in the moment but couldn't control anything or use more than one or two of my senses at a time."

"The subconscious mind is extremely difficult to navigate, and thus much is lost when one attempts to understand it," Spock explained.

"Oh, and who's a traitor?" Nyota asked, vaguely remembering the voices she'd heard early in the meld.

"Clarify."

Nyota was stunned to realize she could barely remember what she'd heard just moments ago. "There were two people talking, I think, and one said something like, 'He's a traitor' and something about a human's eyes, maybe?"

Spock's posture stiffened. "It is… _unimportant_."

She sat back up, trying to get him to look her in the eyes. She wanted to hug him and reassure him in any way she could, but he looked so closed off. "Spock, it's ok."

"'Ok' is an imprecise term," he replied automatically.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," Nyota sighed. "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"The idea was mine, and I do not regret it," Spock insisted. "I merely did not anticipate you being able to penetrate so deeply into my subconscious."

She took his right hand, tracing over the knuckles of his first two fingers with gentle pressure. He relaxed immediately. After nearly a minute of silence he said, "I was not always treated well in my youth due to my unique heritage."

"How so?" Nyota asked, intertwining her fingers with his and shifting her posture to meet his gaze.

"Other Vulcans, children in particular…"

A muscle in his forehead twitched and felt like it pulled all the way to her heartstrings. Spock had been _bullied_? The concept of a Vulcan bully seemed bizarre.

"It's ok – you don't have to tell me," she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him lightly on the mouth. He remained motionless, but after a few moments he returned her kiss.

"Explore _my_ mind," she offered, sitting up, uncrossing her legs, and leaning forward on all fours.

"You have no obligation-"

"I know there's no obligation," she interrupted. "But I _want_ you to. You shared yourself with me, and I want to share myself with you too."

She sat back on her haunches and gave him her most insistent look. He nodded. Their bodies were closer this time around, and the second his fingertips grazed her face, she leaned forward in anticipation, pressing her knees into his.

She wasn't sure what was happening, but her existence felt very… _full_. She began to experience emotions that seemed randomly generated and then instantly fell away and ceased to exist. One moment she was ecstatically happy, the next she was falling into the depths of despair, only to experience white-hot wrath.

She _hated_ it and whimpered involuntarily. Spock immediately retracted his hand and said, "I apologize."

Nyota squinted at him, taking several deep breaths to get her emotions under control. She was _so_ tired. "That was… not at _all_ what I expected. That was pretty intense."

"You have very demanding emotions," Spock agreed. "It was never my intention to make you experience them so fully."

"Well, so, now that you've explored my subconscious, what do you think?"

"I think you have a dynamic mind and an exceptionally kind heart."

Her lips parted into a smile. "What makes you say that?"

"Your cat, Mwombaji – her name means 'beggar.' You found her as a kitten under a high-speed rail line near your school. You carried her home in your bag and hid her from your mother because you were afraid she wouldn't let you keep her."

Nyota shut her eyes and drank in the nostalgia. She didn't realize how much she missed her old, lanky cat until now.

"You also miss your father," Spock continued. "You haven't given up hope that he's alive."

" _What_?" Nyota whispered. "No, he's dead. I don't pretend to hope-"

"There is nothing wrong with hope, Nyota."

She felt tears brimming in her eyes. Why had she agreed to do this stupid Vulcan stunt? She opened her mouth to tell him she figured he would call hope "illogical," but an involuntary yawn escaped her lips.

"Will you allow me to meld with you one more time?" he asked.

"Why?" she snapped.

"I do not intend to directly contact your subconscious again," he explained. "I wish to explore the link between your thoughts and emotions."

"It wasn't exactly very fun the last time. For _either_ of us," she huffed, clenching her jaw to dismiss the tears threatening to roll down her face.

"This form of meld is often used in therapeutic meditation," he said, catching her eye. "It is a calming technique typically employed between mates."

Between _mates_. She held her breath and stared at him, half searching, and half challenging. "Fine, let's try it."

He placed both of his hands near her jawline and she quickly experienced a crescendo of serenity. She shut her eyes to enjoy the calmness to its fullest extent. They remained locked that way for nearly a minute, and when he withdrew his hands, she tried to follow them with her face.

"Why did you stop?"

"Mind melds are mentally taxing, particularly to those unaccustomed to them."

As if on cue, she yawned again. " _Please_? I mean, if you're up to it?"

A gentle sensation tugged at her, a tickle. She felt Spock's fingers twirling around the crest of her knuckles, but even the feeling of ozh'esta paled in comparison to the mind meld she'd just experienced. She gripped his hand and said, "Please?"

He gave her a pointed look but returned his hands to her face. She fell asleep that way, enjoying the bliss of a quiet mind and the warm feel of his tender grip.

The rest of the weekend went by in a blur. The weather was nice on Saturday so they spent the morning walking along the beach, inspecting the shells and watching for dolphins in the distance. They hiked a wildlife trail, toured an underwater aquarium, and visited a maritime museum. They fell asleep locked in another mind meld, and when Nyota woke on Sunday morning, she felt sad, wishing there were a way to spend time with him more regularly.

When they arrived at the shuttle port, she was surprised to see a few people protesting outside. Some held signs that said, "Protect our jobs" while others read, "Pilots not particles."

"What do you think that's about?" Nyota asked, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

"I do not know," Spock admitted.

They took a seat on a long bench and waited for the shuttle back to San Francisco. She turned to ask him when he thought they could see each other again, but stopped when her eyes fell upon the holographic news screen in the distance.

The Federation government had accepted the most recent report by the Commission on Transport Safety to authorize limited use of transporters for civilian travel. The announcement had sparked a wave of small, mostly peaceful protests at a number of shuttle ports and high-speed rail stations throughout the Federation.

It made sense for people in the transportation industry to worry about their livelihood, despite the commission's report that initial estimates on the impact of the rail and shuttle industries would be minimal. Some theorized that they weren't far away from transwarp capability, which could theoretically make starships obsolete and put her job at risk too. She sighed.

When she thought about it logically though, technology had threatened employment since the invention of the wheel – this seemed to be true on every Federation planet, not just Earth – but people always found a way to keep busy. Technology always seemed to have a way of making some jobs extinct but giving rise to entirely new fields.

She imagined people who trained carrier pigeons were probably quite alarmed when the telegraph was invented, just as telegraph operators would eventually agonize over the invention of the telephone, and now here she was hundreds of years later, able to communicate by methods none of her predecessors could have even dreamed. The need to communicate had never gone away, it had just _changed_.

 _"…the first transporters are scheduled to be installed in forty Federation cities by the end of the month, with eight of those on Earth in the cities of Beijing, Buenos Aires, Cairo, Moscow, New York, Paris, San Francisco, and Sydney. There's still no word…_ "

Nyota stopped listening to the reporter. They were going to install a civilian transporter right down the road from her? Starfleet Academy had transporters, but access to them was highly restricted and logs were meticulously kept.

Ever since their inception, people had worried about the transporter's potential to aid in the commission of crimes. Earth's last known serial killer had used transporter technology in the 2140s to rape and murder nine women in their homes. She also recalled an espionage case from the turn of the century, but she couldn't remember the exact details.

Advocates had lobbied for decades to make the technology more accessible to everyday citizens with proper licensure and background checks, pointing to its cost saving measures, environmentally friendly aspects, and the personal convenience of minimal travel time. It seemed like after more than a century of bickering, they'd finally gotten their way.

She noticed Spock watching her and tore her eyes away from the screen to gaze back at him. It seemed strange that she could miss someone she was sitting next to, but she hated not knowing when they could be together as a couple again…

It clicked immediately. They were opening a civilian transport station in San Francisco in less than two weeks. They wouldn't necessarily have to travel hundreds or thousands of kilometers away to avoid discovery – she could just transport directly to his quarters.

There was a flash of something in Spock's eyes, subtle, but definitely there. If Nyota didn't know any better, she would have almost called it mischievous.

She'd been so certain nothing could top Spock's birthday present, but now she believed the Commission on Transport Safety had given him a run for his money.


	21. Fraternization, Hacking, and Inquiries

"Alright, Mr. Spock, the coordinates to your home address have been established and authenticated. Now I see you only have one person on your authorized transport list. Can you review their information and verify everything is correct?"

Spock gazed at the woman on the opposite side of the desk as she turned her computer monitor to face him. His eyes scanned Nyota's information, hunting for errors, and finding none, he folded his hands in his lap and said, "I affirm everything is correct."

"Well then, you're all set. Transporter operations begin on the first of the month and you can find the associated fees by the door."

"Thank you for your assistance." Spock rose to his feet and left the small office within the shuttle port bay.

He didn't bother to read the fee schedule as the woman had suggested because he'd already committed it to memory. Nyota would be able to visit him in his quarters for a fraction of what it would cost to take a shuttlecraft to another municipality and acquire lodgings.

It had taken him a full day to research the logistics and legalities of the Federation's ruling on civilian use of transporters. Starfleet's transporter systems were heavily monitored and all activities carefully logged, but due to Federation privacy laws, civilian transporter logs were not a matter of public record.

It had taken another four days to clear a routine background check to register his quarters as a destination for transport. He could have opted to file his comprehensive security clearance from Starfleet and avoid the process, but he had no interest in drawing Starfleet's attention to his activities.

His relationship with Nyota was not expressly prohibited. Starfleet's policy on fraternization only described " _direct_  student-teacher relationships within Starfleet Academy and other training organizations" as inappropriate. As he was not  _directly_  responsible for her grades, performance evaluations, or potential disciplinary actions, it was logical to conclude their relationship was permitted.

Yet it also seemed prudent to follow Lieutenant Akamatsu's advice from two months earlier and not "go around putting it on display." Regardless of Starfleet's policies, he and Nyota were private individuals who preferred to keep their personal relationships at a distance from their professional lives.

He boarded the transport shuttle to return to campus and pulled his small, personal PADD from his back pocket and prepared to send her a message, notifying her that she was now cleared to transport to his quarters. Just as he initiated the dictation software, he received an urgent memorandum from Captain Ghagan, the head of his department.

_All faculty members without prior commitments are to report to the main auditorium today at 1430 for mandatory training. Those unable to attend must notify me immediately to make arrangements for an alternative training time._

_Very respectfully,_  
Capt. Ghagan Rhi'x  
Computer Engineering Department  
Starfleet Academy – San Francsico

Spock glanced at the time, noting he only had twenty minutes to make the return journey to campus. Since no students had notified him they planned to attend his office hours and his afternoon class had been cancelled, he'd used the free time in his schedule to complete the transporter registration process.

He was not in the habit of running personal errands during the duty day, but many of his colleagues often did, and it had seemed the most efficient use of his time. He was leaving later that night to meet with Captain Pike and tour  _Enterprise_  and would depart from there to the Wolf 359 space station to command the opposition force for the senior class' two week training exercise.

He hadn't spoken to Nyota since they'd returned from Florida the previous Sunday, though she was never far from his mind, always lurking at the fringes and weaving her way through his thoughts. He'd spent several hours each evening in deep meditation, trying to confront his affection for her. Touching Nyota's subconscious had taught him much about her, and himself.

When he'd first begun to suspect he cared for her beyond the bounds of a professional relationship, he hadn't been able to determine how deeply the sentiment went. Following their mind melds and his exhaustive meditation, he still couldn't adequately assess the sentiment, but he was aware his affection was far more profound than he'd initially supposed.

He didn't understand the precise source of his intense attraction, but he didn't reflect upon it for very long, because the existence of logic in mate selection was purely coincidental. Finding a mate was not done logically, and whatever the reason, he was quickly becoming attached to her.

Spock stepped from the shuttle at the far north end of campus and proceeded on foot to the main auditorium. He took long, swift strides and attempted to clear his mind through light meditation, but it was difficult to remove her from his thoughts.

When he was twenty meters from the main building, red-uniformed cadets began emerging through the double doors. Many nodded and offered some form of scripted greeting such as "good afternoon" or "good day" – a tedious custom – and just as he made his way through the entry and turned left, he ran into her.

Nyota's features were frozen into an expression of neutrality and her complexion was an unusually ashen. For a brief instant, their eyes met. He wasn't sure how he knew, as he often found it difficult to interpret complex human facial expressions, but she was  _afraid_. He was certain. She walked next to Cadet Gaila, who grinned and waved, exclaiming, "Hi, Commander Spock!"

"Cadet." He nodded and walked past them both, trying to discern if there were any logical means of deducing the source of Nyota's distress.

Several members of the faculty were already sitting toward the front, so Spock made his way to the first row and took a seat next to Lieutenant Agatha Bautista, who was chewing on the end of a digital stylus and taking notes on a large PADD. She looked up and smiled when she saw him.

"How's it going, Commander Spock? You ready for this training exercise next week?"

"Hello, Lieutenant Bautista. I am well. And yes."

"I heard you're commanding the opposition this year," she mused, nibbling on the end of her stylus.

"Affirmative."

"Any chance you got a copy of the operations order?"

"I received a copy four weeks ago to begin my preparations," he replied, wishing to avoid small talk with her while he considered possible causes of Nyota's fear.

"Care to share?" she winked.

"It is not permitted." Not only had he been given express orders not to divulge the contents of the operations order to anyone, but also Lieutenant Bautista was an observer controller for one of the four starships.

"I  _know_ ," she responded, twirling the stylus in her hand. "I'm just joking with you, Commander."

"I inferred that from your laughter," he remarked.

"Well, I'm looking forward to it. It's actually my first time serving as an observer-controller. I was supposed to for last semester's reconnaissance training mission, but I guess you know what happened with that."

"Yes," he replied. Lieutenant Bautista had been scheduled to be an observer-controller on the  _Dalton II_  but had come down with Andorian shingles the day before departure and Spock had replaced her on short notice.

"Hopefully we'll have better luck this time," she murmured, giving him a thin smile.

He was about to make a comment about the illogic of luck when she said, "Speaking of luck, Cadet Uhura picked up a faint Romulan transmission last night in the long range sensor lab."

Spock didn't want to involve himself with Nyota's education on principle, but he was intrigued by the news. Had her fear been related to this unanticipated discovery? "Explain."

"It turned out to be an eighty year old routine message about readings from a nebula in the Azure sector. She turned it over to Starfleet operations right away – that's how I ended up getting a call at 0130 from the station chief at headquarters – but she had it completely translated and logged in under fifteen minutes. That's faster than the communications officer on duty at Starfleet headquarters did it. She's got a real gift."

"I am aware," he replied. "As you know, I was her initial advisor. I do not believe her discovery had anything to do with luck."

"Yeah… the girl with the golden ears," Bautista grinned. "Sorry, I like to brag about my students, but you're right, you  _were_  her advisor before I was. You'd be proud to know her program works, by the way. All she has left is data collection."

"Pride is illogical," he explained. "Furthermore, the work has been hers."

"Do either of you know what this is about?" interrupted a voice to Spock's right. He shifted in his seat to see Commander Riegelman slumping into the chair next to him.

"One of the students who sat through the briefing right before this one said it's about the new fraternization policy," Bautista explained.

"It's probably just a knee-jerk reaction to Lieutenant Ahn," Riegelman muttered.

"Yeah, can you  _believe_  that?" Bautista sneered.

"To what do you refer?" Spock inquired.

They both gave him peculiar looks. Bautista replied, "You didn't hear Lieutenant Ahn was temporarily suspended last night pending an investigation?"

"Oh come on, Aggie, you know Commander Spock doesn't gossip like the rest of us," Riegelman grinned.

"Of what is he accused?" Spock asked.

Both women raised their eyebrows. "Maybe he likes gossip more than you realized," Bautista laughed.

"I was simply attempting to understand how it relates to your earlier remark about a new fraternization policy," he explained, working to suppress budding anxiety.

"I don't want to spread rumors," Riegelman said.

"He was dating two of his students and one accused him of threatening to fail her if she broke things off.  _Allegedly_ ," Bautista blurted. "I can't believe something like this would really happen here at the Academy, but I guess you never know. Lieutenant Ahn is such a nice guy, but if it's true, I hope they throw the book at him."

Spock didn't have time to reflect on the unusual euphemism – what purpose would throwing a book at Lieutenant Ahn serve? – before Lieutenant Commander Johar, who happened to be sitting in the row behind them, interjected, "I heard he was dating  _three_  students."

" _No_ …" Bautista murmured, turning to face Johar and lowering her voice. "Did you hear any names?"

Spock sat forward in his seat and gazed at the stage straight ahead. It was illogical to speculate about the contents of the new policy, but it seemed reasonable to conclude his relationship with Nyota was no longer in a "gray area," as humans liked to say.

"I don't know  _who_  in their right mind would date a student," Riegelman sighed.

"Oh come on," Bautista laughed, looking back from her quiet conversation with Commander Johar. "I've heard rumors about lots of the faculty. Most people are just smart enough not to go around broadcasting it. The policy's always been really unclear and a lot of people really take advantage of it. But I agree, dating students is ridiculous. Why risk your career if things go wrong?"

Several moments of silence passed, culminating in a smile on Riegelman's face. " _You're_  awfully quiet, Commander Spock."

"I have nothing to add to the conversation which has not already been said."

He was spared from explaining further when Admiral Barnett, the Commandant of Starfleet Academy, entered the room and they were called to attention. He stepped to the podium, told them to take their seats, and introduced several individuals from the Adjutant's Office and Personnel Resources.

"I guess by now most of you have either heard or figured out that we're here to discuss Starfleet Academy's new fraternization policy."

There were a few soft murmurs throughout the auditorium and the commandant glanced around before continuing. "This policy is long overdue and has been in the works for several months now. I'm not here to spread rumors, and I hope each and every one of you has the professionalism to do likewise. You're all commissioned Starfleet officers – I would expect no less."

Admiral Barnett paused again to make eye contact with several individuals sitting near the back. Bautista turned, ostensibly to see who he might be looking at, but Spock remained facing forward.

"Personnel resources has forwarded a copy to all students and faculty," Barnett continued. "You will read it, digitally sign it, and return it to Personnel Resources by close of business on Monday. Now I know it's a bit out of the ordinary to call an instructional briefing for a new policy, and if we did it for every change of policy we'd never get any work done, but I wanted to make sure there were no questions about just how serious this is. So do I have everyone's full attention?"

"Aye, sir," they replied in choppy unison.

"I have a meeting in ten minutes, so I'm going to keep this short," Barnett drawled. "I'm not going to tolerate fraternization at this school, period. I've seen discipline and professionalism slipping in the last few months, and it's going to stop. Just this morning I heard a cadet addressing a senior member of the faculty by her first name. That's not acceptable and it never has been."

Barnett scanned the first row and Spock saw Commander Riegelman fidgeting in her seat out of the corner of his eye.

"And what's worse is I hear rumors about the faculty dating cadets," Barnett added, his voice growing louder. " _Dating_. I can't tell cadets that they're forbidden from having personal relationships while they're here at the Academy, but I certainly  _can_  tell them they're not going date members of my faculty. Those cadets are here to learn to be Starfleet officers, and it is your responsibility to teach them, mentor them, guide them,  _mold_  them. Not  _date_  them."

Barnett leaned back from the podium and surveyed the assembly. "Looking around this room, I see some nervous faces, and that makes  _me_  nervous. Look, whatever little romances or flirtations you have going on with students, it stops right now,  _today_. If you are currently in a questionable relationship with a cadet, you have three options: you can resign your commission, that cadet can drop out of the Academy, or you can put it off until you leave my school, because frankly, what you do when you leave here is no longer my business. So don't ever let it be said Admiral Barnett wants to stand in the way of 'true love.' Is everyone clear so far?"

"Aye, sir," they answered.

"Great, so Lieutenant Sebold from personnel resources is going to come up here and walk you through each line of this new policy, provide some examples, and answer any questions you have, and I'm going to run along to my meeting, but before I go, I'm going to leave you with one last thing," Barnett announced. " _Let me catch you_ , folks. Let me catch you in an inappropriate relationship with a cadet, and I  _promise_  you, you will have no doubts about how seriously I take fraternization."

Barnett backed away from the podium and as he headed toward the exit, they all rose to their feet again, only for him to wave dismissively and shout, "Carry on." They resumed their seats and Lieutenant Sebold displayed a slideshow on the screen behind her to begin her training. Spock pulled out his personal PADD, linked it to his work messages, found the policy, and started reading it for himself.

> **Starfleet Academy Fraternization Policy**
> 
> **Purpose  
>  ** Starfleet Academy is committed to providing an environment for students, faculty, and staff that is respectful and free from conflicts of interest, harassment, discrimination, exploitation, and favoritism. In order to avoid the aforementioned breaches of professional standards, Starfleet Academy has provided the following policy on fraternization.
> 
> **Definitions  
>  ** For the purpose of this policy:
> 
> · Consensual relationships are those of a romantic, dating, and/or sexual nature entered into with consent of both parties.
> 
> · Supervisory or evaluative authority is the power to directly control or indirectly influence another person's academic advancement, future assignment, promotion, discipline, extracurricular participation, grades, assignments, supervision of dissertations/theses, or professional recommendations.
> 
> · Other prohibited interpersonal relationships are those that are not romantic or sexual in nature but may be considered inappropriate because they cause an actual or perceived situation that negatively impacts good order and discipline.
> 
> **Policy**  
>  Consensual relationships   
>  · Consensual relationships are likely to interfere with a faculty member's supervisory authority to make decisions impartially and without favoritism. Even if the faculty member is able to avoid being biased, the perception of bias may persist, leading others within the professional or learning environment to see themselves as being less favored and disadvantaged by the consensual relationship. Therefore, consensual relationships between students and faculty are expressly prohibited at Starfleet Academy, with limited exceptions for pre-existing relationships.
> 
> **Nonconsensual relationships**   
>  · When a faculty member uses supervisory authority to coerce another person to enter into a nonconsensual relationship, the damage to the student, Starfleet Academy, Starfleet, and the Federation is evident and likely to be long lasting. Examples include but are not limited to creating a harassing or demeaning environment and quid pro quo arrangements. Nonconsensual relationships between students and faculty are not only expressly prohibited at Starfleet Academy, but are unlawful within the Federation. Policies and procedures for reporting nonconsensual relationships are available online and at personnel resources, student advising offices, campus security offices, and medical facilities.
> 
> **Other prohibited interpersonal relationships**   
>  · Any relationship that compromises the chain of command or faculty member's supervisory authority, results in the appearance of favoritism, or otherwise undermines good order, discipline, or morale may be considered a prohibited interpersonal relationship. These relationships are difficult to characterize, but they become a concern when they have the effect of impairing work; harassing, demeaning, or creating a negative working environment; disrupting the smooth and orderly flow of work within the professional environment; establishing quid pro quo arrangements; or harming the goodwill and reputation of Starfleet or the Federation at large. Notable examples include but are not limited to gambling, ongoing business relationships, financial transactions, and insubordination through excessive familiarity and disrespect of rank. Whether the contact or association in question is a violation depends on the surrounding circumstances. Formal allegations must be made to Personnel Resources and will be investigated by the by the Office of the Commandant.
> 
> **Procedures for Exceptions to Policy  
>  ** On occasion, a faculty member will have a romantic relationship with an individual who then becomes a student, or an individual with a preexisting relationship with a student will join the faculty. It is the obligation of the faculty member to disclose that relationship to the Office of the Commandant. It is the obligation of the commandant to take steps that he or she deems necessary to ensure that the educational experience of the student, and the student's peers, is not significantly affected by the pre-existing relationship.
> 
> **Noncompliance and Sanctions  
>  ** If allegations of fraternization have been confirmed through a formal investigation by an independent review board, disciplinary action will be taken in accordance with relevant disciplinary procedures contained in Starfleet's Organizational Code. Disciplinary actions include but are not limited to, written warnings, loss of privileges, mandatory training/counseling, demotion, expulsion from Starfleet Academy, and termination from service/employment.

Forty-five minutes later Spock filed out of the auditorium, able to infer what had unsettled Nyota but unable to contrive any way his relationship with her would be officially permitted to continue. The most logical course of action would be to break off all contact with her until she graduated in two months and twenty-six days. Though he rationally understood he would be able to see her more regularly once they were both assigned to  _Enterprise_ , he was having difficulty suppressing his irrational emotions about this unanticipated temporary separation.

"Hey, Commander Spock?"

He turned on his heel and discovered Lieutenant Nowak trying to cut his way through the crowded hallway outside the auditorium.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" he asked, turning back around to resume walking once Nowak caught up to him.

"Do you have some free time this afternoon to come take a look at the  _Kobayashi Maru_  simulator?"

Spock had assigned Cadets Chekov, Gaila, and Maloney to overhaul the _Kobayashi Maru's_ program following the glitches during Cadet Kirk's most recent test and given them orders to report to Lieutenant Nowak if they had any concerns. Christopher Nowak had once been his subordinate, but after his romantic disagreements with Holly Akamatsu, he'd transferred to programming operations and no longer taught classes.

"As my afternoon class was cancelled to allow the senior students time to prepare for their training mission, I am available now," he replied. "What do you have to report?"

"I think the simulator might have been hacked," Nowak said, scratching the back of his head.

"What gives you cause to believe so?" Spock asked as they left the main building and turned left to go to the Tarkington Computer Engineering Building.

"Chekov spent all weekend going through the code line by line and couldn't find anything out of the ordinary and even ran several full simulations without incident, but when Maloney started looking at the backup files on the tertiary mainframe, he found a few inconsistencies."

"Were you able to trace the source?"

"No, unfortunately," Nowak sighed. "I can't tell you who did it, when it was done, where it was done from, or even exactly  _how_  it happened. Whoever did it was an  _artist_. From the tertiary backups I can definitely say it happened at some point this term but not within the past month. That's the best I can do."

"Have you reported your suspicions to the Academic Honesty Office?"

"And say what?" Nowak shrugged. "I'm not even a hundred percent certain anything was done intentionally, but I can't see how the system would back up an erroneous copy of a simulation file onto the tertiary mainframe. Where would it get that file in the first place, you know? That's why I thought you might have some insight, because the  _Kobayashi Maru_  is your program and you're the one with the A-7 computer expert classification."

They walked into the west entrance of the Tarkington building together and up the stairs to the observation room of simulator 6. Halfway up the stairs, the upper door burst open and Cadet Gaila emerged. Her big eyes grew larger when she saw them and her mouth fell open, but she quickly turned her expression into a smile and slinked towards them.

"Commander Spock, Lieutenant Nowak," she grinned. "How are you gentlemen this afternoon?"

"Adequate," Spock replied.

"Oh, we uh, I-  _you know_ ," Nowak blushed.

Spock gazed at the young lieutenant, inferring from the reddening of his complexion and the altered pattern of his speech that Nowak was nervous. It was logical to conclude Gaila's presence was the catalyst, though he couldn't be certain whether it was due to her physiology or Nowak's opinion of her. Spock's eyes darted back to Gaila, observing the pronounced sway of her hips as she walked down the stairs and the fluttering of her eyes, which culminated in a wink as she squeezed past Nowak on her descent.

"Why were you in the observation room?" Spock asked.

" _Huh_?" she blurted.

"Yeah, what- what were you uh… doing?" Nowak mumbled.

"You tasked me with debugging the simulator," Gaila replied, grinning and making eye contact with Nowak.

"Which Lieutenant Nowak informs me you have completed," Spock replied, folding his hands behind his back. "You and the rest of the senior class were given the afternoon off to prepare for next week's training mission, so why return here?"

"I… left something upstairs and came back to get it," Gaila explained, glancing in Spock's direction.

"Oh, ok," Nowak mumbled, his cheeks growing a deeper shade of red.

Gaila whirled around to continue her journey down the stairs, but Spock asked, "What was it?"

"What was  _what_?" Gaila responded.

"The item you came to retrieve?"

"You're  _awfully_  curious today, Commander," Gaila replied, smiling and biting her lip.

"And your hands are empty," Spock retorted.

"Oh,  _right_ ," she laughed. "Turns out it's probably back in my room, because it's not here."

"I see." Spock's eyes remained trained on her, and her expression hardened slightly.

"Well, I should be going," Gaila sighed. "I have to get back to my room and help my  _roommate_  pack. She's very  _stressed_ , you know. We're trying to get ready for this mission and then we had to go to that  _fraternization_  training."

The change in her tone was curious, as was her deliberate mention of Nyota. It was illogical to presume she was making a threat, particularly when he couldn't understand her motivation for doing so, but Gaila wasn't a great admirer of logic.

"Certainly," Spock replied.

Gaila gave Nowak a warm smile and then stalked down the stairs, bouncing slightly with each step. Spock was surprised to discover his heart rate had become slightly elevated from its standard 240 beats per minute to 252 beats per minute, and worked to regain control of his physiology.

He didn't have time to reflect on the unusual interaction however, because the moment they arrived in the observation room, Nowak launched into an explanation of the work he and the cadets had done during the week.

They spent the next several hours pouring over Cadet Maloney's findings. Two versions of the  _Kobayashi Maru_  simulator currently existed: the one Gaila and Chekov had restored and the one that Maloney had discovered on the tertiary mainframe. When Spock began comparing the two, he found very minor discrepancies in the subroutines for the photon torpedoes and shields, but it was nearly impossible to derive the purpose of the changes just by looking at the code.

He was certain of one thing though: the changes weren't his. Spock was the original author of the program and though other people had installed updates to it during the past three years, Spock had also written the updates. Yet the stylistic differences between his program and the new subroutines were obvious. There were spaces after semicolons, unnecessary breaks in the lines of code, and annotation backslashes with no text describing the subroutine's functionality. On the whole, the new subroutines were sloppy and difficult to read.

When he restored the altered version of the program to the main system and ran a diagnostic, it came back with no errors, and he ran through the simulation twice with Nowak and it appeared to function normally. He returned to the observation room and prepared to take the program offline again, but was struck by a fleeting memory when he glanced down at the communications station.

Nyota had been sitting there just a week ago, working competently and efficiently. It had been the last time the simulator was used; it had been during Cadet Kirk's unorthodox second attempt. His mind teased at the memory, trying to weave logic through speculation.

During Cadet Kirk's last attempt, he'd opted for an unusual strategy to rescue the stranded crew of the  _Kobayashi Maru_  when he disregarded both logic and protocols and elected to cross the Neutral Zone without raising his shields. Then he'd ignored escalation of force measures by ordering the deployment of photon torpedoes before utilizing phasers. Had it been a  _tactical_  scenario, Kirk would have failed due to negligence, but the  _Kobayashi Maru_  was designed to test composure in the face of death, not assess military strategy.

When he and Nowak ran the altered program a third time using Kirk's tactics, a very unexpected thing occurred. For the first time since it had been put in service three years earlier, Spock defeated the  _Kobayashi Maru_  simulation by successfully rescuing the stranded crew and returning to Federation space.

"I didn't think it was possible to beat this test," Nowak laughed as they powered down the program.

"It was not designed to be beaten," Spock admitted. "Given the evidence, it is logical to conclude these subroutines were inserted as a means of overriding automatic failure algorithms."

"So who put them there?"

Spock didn't immediately reply. The most logical conclusion was that Kirk had installed them, but he had no proof aside from the cadet's irrational decisions during his most recent attempt at the simulation. Nowak had spent days trying to locate the original source of the code in the altered version of the program but had been unsuccessful. Furthermore, the altered program had been on the tertiary mainframe for more than a month and according to records, nine command track students had attempted the  _Kobayashi Maru_  during that time.

They spent three more hours going over access logs and records, and still Spock could not obtain enough convincing circumstantial evidence to implicate Kirk. It was obvious the culprit had managed to temporarily place the altered version of the simulation on the main computer system, most likely via a flaw in the backup system, and had neglected to erase the evidence in the tertiary mainframe, but Spock couldn't even determine how it had been done.

He wanted to investigate further, but it was already 2100 hours and he was due to meet Captain Pike at the orbital space dock in an hour. He notified the Information Security Office about the suspected breach in the Academy's main computer system, dismissed Nowak, and secured the observation deck, leaving the lieutenant with instructions to keep all students out of the simulator until he returned from the senior training mission.

He left the corridor with the simulators and walked toward the expansive building's east exit. The halls were deserted and the overhead lighting was dimmed due to the late hour, but he paid little attention. His mind was active and full, pondering his imminent visit to  _Enterprise_ , the upcoming training mission at Wolf 359, the  _Kobayashi Maru_  hack, and most prominently, his looming separation from Nyota.

He was halfway down the main hall en route to the exit when the door to a stairwell creaked open and Nyota emerged. His heart emitted an unanticipated palpitation but he continued his stride without faltering.

"Sir," she murmured, turning to walk down the hallway in the same direction.

"Cadet," he replied. "Your presence in the building was unexpected at this late hour."

"Oh, I was down in the long range sensor lab collecting data for my thesis," she said quickly. "It's hard to get dedicated time on the array during the day because the lab's schedule conflicts with mine."

"I see," he said. "Lieutenant Bautista informs me you intercepted a Romulan message last night."

The muscles in her face twitched an expression of satisfaction, but she said, "It was just was an old transmission. I almost mistook it for Vulcan at first, but when I realized what I was picking up, I got a little excited and notified Starfleet before I knew what I had. It's kind of embarrassing really, being the overeager cadet who imagines she's intercepting something relevant and important like Romulan invasion plans."

"On the contrary, you acted diligently and according to regulation," Spock explained. "Lieutenant Bautista was impressed with your discovery. I also consider it impressive."

Nyota murmured something unintelligible, and then the only sound that remained was the clicking of their footwear on the tiled floor. They walked side-by-side at a moderate and purposeful pace, head and eyes straightforward. He considered the optimal way to broach the subject of the afternoon's briefing on Starfleet Academy's new fraternization policy, but she beat him to it when she muttered, "What are we going to do?"

Her words were so quiet he wasn't certain he'd heard her correctly, but when he glanced in her direction, he saw the evident worry and longing in her eyes. He didn't want to be parted from her, and for a brief moment believed he would accept the risk to his career to continue to be close to her, but logic immediately prevailed. There was more than just his career to consider, there was  _hers_.

"How do you wish to proceed?" he asked quietly, looking away from her.

She didn't answer. They walked out of the east exit together and were immediately confronted by Lieutenant Akamatsu who was entering the building through the same door.

"Commander Spock," she declared, before eyeing Nyota and adding, " _And_  Cadet Uhura. You two certainly seem to be thick as thieves, always sneaking around together at late hours."

"I was investigating problems with one of the training simulators," Spock explained. "And Cadet Uhura was performing work in the long range sensor lab. Our meeting was coincidental, much like our meeting with you."

"Right,  _actually_ , I wanted to talk to you, sir," Akamatsu said, glaring at Nyota.

"Yeah, I was just heading back to the dorms anyway," Nyota announced. "It was good seeing you sir. And ma'am."

Spock didn't take his eyes from Akamatsu's face, though he could see Nyota walking away in his periphery. He suppressed the illogical urge to follow her and asked, "How may I assist you, Lieutenant?"

"I was wondering if you'd given any more consideration to my interest in being assigned to  _Enterprise_?"

"I am due to meet with the  _Enterprise_ 's captain within the hour," Spock explained. "I do not work in Personnel Resources and do not know what postings are available."

"All I wanted was a recommendation."

"I haven't had the opportunity to speak with Captain Pike since we last met at the bistro."

"But you're meeting with him in an hour," she pressed.

"I am," he replied. "I need to return to my quarters to pack the necessary supplies for my visit to the ship and the upcoming training mission."

"Yeah, sure," she mumbled. "I just- I get the feeling you're brushing me off. Pavel Chekov and Richard Maloney both told me they received orders to  _Enterprise_  at your recommendation, so I'm just trying to figure out why you'd choose students over your colleagues."

"In approximately three months' time, those cadets will be our colleagues," he reminded her. "Captain Pike tasked me with selecting twelve cadets who'd expressed interest in an assignment to the vessel. As you are not a cadet, your name was not included."

"Right," she replied sharply. "But I have to wonder, I heard Nyota Uhura got an assignment through your recommendation also."

"Hers was one of the twelve names I submitted to Captain Pike, due to her exemplary record and class rank."

Akamatsu blinked. Spock did not.

"I know she was on that disastrous training mission with you last term," Akamatsu finally said. "I guess being stranded on a planet after being attacked by pirates, that can bring two people closer together."

"You imply the experience bolstered my sense of camaraderie with Cadet Uhura," Spock countered. "Perhaps it did, though that regrettable event also allowed me to gauge her performance in a non-simulated environment. Adding weight to your theory is the fact that I also recommended Cadets Sulu and Chekov, who were on the mission as well."

She scowled and nodded. "I don't mean to imply you're picking favorites. Chekov is easily my best student: I would have chosen him too."

"If you have no other concerns, I need to return to my quarters," Spock stated.

"I don't mean to pester you," she said. "But please, consider me when you speak with Captain Pike."

Spock nodded as a courtesy but didn't reply. He turned and walked the short distance to his quarters, collected his bag, and proceeded to the Academy's official port at the far end of campus. He arrived right on time for the shuttle's departure and walked toward the small vessel at an accelerated pace.

The door flung open as he reached it, revealing a Tarkalean flight chief who was evidently startled by his sudden appearance. She sneezed unexpectedly, hurling thick mucous all over his face and neck. He closed his eyes, took a heavy breath, and tried to suppress his disgust.

After wiping and sanitizing his face and listening to numerous apologies, the shuttle left Earth and arrived at the orbital space dock twenty-four minutes later. He saw  _Enterprise_  very briefly upon their approach, noting robotic instruments gliding over the ship's duranium hull. Their docking was hindered by the  _USS Farragut_ , which had been towed in for repairs by the  _USS Walcott_  following a disastrous mission at Tycho IV. When the shuttle finally docked, Spock found Pike waiting to greet him.

"Have a good trip?" Pike asked.

Spock thought back to the Tarkalean crewman and replied, "I have arrived alive and without injury."

Pike grinned. "Well, it's good to have you here. It's pretty late so I figured we'd start with the tour tomorrow, but are you up for a brandy in my quarters?"

"I do not consume alcohol," Spock reminded him, as he'd reminded him every time they'd met since he'd graduated from the Academy.

"Then are you up for some water while I have a brandy?"

Spock didn't see how he could refuse. It took twenty minutes to traverse the kilometer-long space dock and arrive in Pike's quarters aboard  _Enterprise_. Pike showed him an identical room next to his own which would serve as Spock's private lodgings. The room was much smaller than his current living situation but still quite spacious for a starship. His next thought was that Nyota, as a new ensign, would likely share a room with another junior officer.

"You seem different than the last time I saw you," Pike remarked as they entered the captain's quarters.

"Explain."

"When I saw you in your office a month ago, you looked like someone kicked your puppy."

Spock canted his head at the unusual turn of phrase, attempting to decipher its meaning. "I do not have any pets, canine or otherwise."

Pike chuckled to himself and glanced up at the ceiling as he pulled a bottle of brown liquid from a cupboard in the small kitchen at the opposite end of the room. "I mean you looked  _sad_ , in a Vulcan sort of way. Now you…  _don't_."

"I do not experience sadness," he insisted. "I do not now and I did not then."

"Well, there's a replicator right there if you want something to drink," Pike said, pointing to a slot in the wall at the entry of the kitchen.

Spock tucked his hands behind his back and approached the device. He considered the programming options on the replicator and selected the option for kaasa juice, a blue-green beverage popular on Vulcan.

"What  _is_  that?" Pike sneered.

"Kaasa juice."

"Well, it certainly smells very… potent."

Spock took a sip and raised his eyebrows. He actually found the replicated drink to be rather bland, but it was a passable approximation.

"So, I got your list of recommended cadets and had their orders pushed through," Pike announced, taking a seat in a lounge chair near the front of the room. "I haven't had a chance to read their files, but I trust your judgment."

"You explained that when you assigned me with the task," Spock replied, considering Akamatsu's request and deliberating whether to recommend her to Pike.

"I did have  _one_  question," Pike added. "Are you familiar with James Kirk?"

"I have become acquainted with his name only recently," Spock admitted.

"His name was on the list from personnel resources. Why not recommend him?"

Spock hesitated. Kirk had been a highly qualified candidate, but there had been others who had performed better. He decided against telling the captain about his suspicions regarding Kirk's academic dishonesty, rationalizing that humans tended to confuse accusations with confirmed guilt, and since he had no definitive proof, slandering Kirk's character at this juncture would be prejudicial.

"When I made my decision, I compared his scores against his peers on the command track, and I believed there were others with better records."

"Come on, Spock," Pike sighed. "There's more to people than just metrics. I've heard you're one of the toughest graders in Academy history, so I assumed you cared more about performance and actual competence than data."

"You assume correctly," Spock confessed. "But since I've made my recommendation, I have come to know more of Cadet Kirk and stand by my initial assessment."

"Why?"

"I observed his performance in the  _Kobayashi Maru_  simulation, and not only did he violate a number of Starfleet protocols, he was reckless and poorly organized."

"The  _Kobayashi Maru_  was your senior project," Pike laughed. "Are you sure you're not just being critical of his performance because you're sentimental about it?"

"Emotional attachment to a computer simulation is illogical," Spock retorted.

"How bad could he have done?"

"Will you permit me a query, captain?"

"I thought you knew me well enough that you shouldn't feel you have to ask," Pike replied, taking a sip of his drink.

"What is your interest in this cadet?"

Pike took another long draught and answered, "It's… complicated."

"Based on my observations, I do not believe Cadet Kirk takes service in Starfleet seriously. His grades suggest he possesses the necessary competence, but his attitude leaves much to be desired."

"I respect your opinion, Commander Spock," Pike replied. "Kirk  _is_  arrogant, but he's young. We all have our character flaws. Anyway, enough about that. What's new with you?"

The sudden shift in conversation turned his thoughts back to Nyota.

"Did you just  _smile_?" Pike laughed, a look of astonishment spreading across his face.

"I am Vulcan. I cannot express emotions that I do not feel," Spock replied, before answering Pike's question by adding, "I am departing directly from here on Sunday for Wolf 359 to command the opposition force for the senior training exercise."

"Oh, it  _is_  that time of year, isn't it?" Pike grinned. "Well, if I get the chance, maybe I'll stop by and see how my future junior officers are doing."

The comm on the wall buzzed and Pike went to answer it. A minute later, Spock's personal PADD vibrated in his back pocket, and when he extracted it to read the new message, it was a single line from Nyota that read, " _I don't want to stop seeing you if you don't want to stop seeing me_."

"You just did it again!" Pike exclaimed, slumping back in seat and narrowing his eyes.

"Clarify."

"You just  _smiled_."

"I assure you, you are mistaken."

Pike took a small sip of his brandy and asked, "So who is she?"


	22. Unparalleled Abilities

"I'm so thrilled we ended up on the same shift," Gaila mused, staring dreamily up at the ceiling.

"Are you talking about me or Captain Cocky?" Nyota muttered, taking a sip of her tea.

"He's really not a bad person, once you get to know him," Gaila insisted.

"I'll take your word for it," Nyota replied gloomily, setting the empty cup down and drumming her fingers along the edge of the table.

"It's not like  _you_  have impeccable taste in men," Gaila retorted, taking another bite of her breakfast potatoes.

Nyota shot Gaila a dark look, prompting her friend to give her a reassuring smile. She'd felt on edge ever since the new fraternization policy had come out last week, and Gaila's devil-may-care attitude was the last thing she felt like tolerating right now.

The last five days had been hell. She'd sent Spock a message on Friday night explaining she was willing to take a chance if he was. The moment she'd sent it, she became certain she was a reckless idiot, but much to her surprise, he'd replied immediately, saying he "agreed with her sentiment." Ever since then, she'd cycled back and forth between regretting risking her future for a guy she barely knew and smitten feelings that bordered on annoying.

On Saturday, she learned Lieutenant Akamatsu was replacing Lieutenant Ahn as the chief observer-controller for the  _USS Mustang,_ the ship she was assigned to for the tactical training exercise. It was obvious Akamatsu suspected something was going on between her and Spock, and spending two weeks under her direct supervision seemed like the worst thing that could happen.

Or at least she  _thought_  getting put on a ship with Akamatsu was the worst thing that could happen, until she learned she'd been assigned to Alpha shift, which was under the command of Cadet Kirk, James T., Gaila's sleazy, persistent, overconfident boyfriend.

She still hadn't decided whether Gaila being on the same bridge shift would make things better or worse. If Kirk still came onto her in front of Gaila, maybe Gaila would finally see for herself what Nyota had been telling her all along. But knowing Gaila's carefree attitude toward strict fidelity, she wasn't sure her friend would care. On the other hand, maybe having his girlfriend around would keep Kirk in check. Who knew?

What she  _did_  know was that her nerves were already fraying, which was worrisome, because she was not a nervous person. Amid the pressures of her relationship with Spock, a new draconian fraternization policy, working under Akamatsu's suspicious watch, having to take orders from Kirk, and Gaila's tendency to gossip absent-mindedly, she almost forgot to be nervous about the upcoming mission.

This mission mattered a  _lot_. She already had orders to the  _USS Enterprise_ , but a major mistake during this comprehensive training exercise could keep her from graduating on time and cost her the assignment, and without her assignment, she could kiss her relationship with Spock goodbye. Of course, her relationship with Spock was threatening her graduation too…

She pushed her chair away from the table and rose to her feet.

"Where are you going?" Gaila asked. "We still have forty-five minutes until the mission briefing."

"I need to-" She stopped short of saying she needed to get some fresh air, realizing the silliness of such a statement aboard a starship. "I'm going to take a walk."

"Mind if I join you?"

Nyota wasn't sure. Part of her wanted to be alone, but the other part knew that if she allowed herself to be alone, she would only stew on her problems more. She shrugged and glanced toward the door.

They collected their food trays, placed them in the reclaimator, and left the mostly empty mess facility on C Deck. She was surprised that more people hadn't turned up for breakfast, but then again, she hadn't eaten much of her cereal. She was too wound up to eat.

They'd departed for Wolf 359 on Monday at 0400 hours and spent the next three days familiarizing themselves with the  _Mustang_ , the  _Lancaster_  Class starship that was to be their home and workspace for the next two weeks. The  _Lancasters_  had been slowly phased out of active service over the past two decades in favor of the more modern  _Valley Forge_  class vessels, and now the  _Constitution_  class ships were poised to take over as Starfleet's primary cruiser.

But many of the  _Lancaster_  class starships were still operational and Starfleet Academy had requisitioned them for training purposes. They were old, slow, and cramped, but they were reliable. More than that, they carried a unique impression of history that Nyota found irresistible.

The  _Lancasters_  had been the pride and joy of the fleet when they'd entered service at the turn of the 23rd century and the over the years, the crew of the  _Mustang_  had left personal touches throughout the ship. There was an enormous mural on the back of the wall of the bridge depicting a wild horse racing the constellation Pegasus that the ship's first captain, Captain David Kuruk, had painted.

During a crew drill the day before, she'd found a tiny wooden elephant behind the computer console in the main sensor array control room. Though the design was obviously Indian, the intricately carved figurine reminded her of the elephants on the Maasai Mara. She was struck by a wave of bittersweet nostalgia and internal reflection, forced to marvel at the beauty of being briefly connected to a complete stranger from another culture and another generation through a wooden carving found on an aging ship in orbit of a star more than seven light years from home.

Her first instinct had been to tuck it in her pocket, but she decided to return it to its original place, wishing she knew more about its previous owner. Perhaps the elephant had been a good luck talisman, placed there deliberately, or maybe it had simply fallen behind the console and been lost. Either way, it belonged to the  _Mustang_  now and taking it would have felt like a sacrilege, so she put it back behind the secondary console and went about her business.

It made her wonder what kind of stories she would create aboard  _Enterprise_. Would she love that ship as much as the crew of the  _Mustang_  had obviously loved theirs? It seemed almost unreal that she was graduating in three months.

"You're awfully quiet," Gaila remarked as they strolled along the narrow corridor.

"Yeah, well, I have a lot going on right now."

"Sure," Gaila nodded. "I was only wondering if you were going to tell me where we're going?"

Nyota looked ahead and noticed they had made a complete lap around C Deck; they were literally walking in circles. She shrugged dismissively and said, "I told you I was going to take a walk."

"While we walk… you want to talk about what's got you down, you know, aside from your boy troubles?"

Nyota gave her a pointed look. Damn Gaila and her intuition. Nyota stopped and leaned against the curved wall of the ship's inner corridor. "Most of it is related to that, but there's more."

Gaila leaned against the wall beside her, crossing her arms and offering an expectant look. "You feel like you're starting a new chapter in your life and you don't know how it's going to go?"

" _Exactly_ ," Nyota sighed. "I swear: it's like you can read minds."

"No," Gaila laughed. "I just know you and how you like to organize every tiny detail of your life and I'm sure it's probably eating you alive not being able to plan anything beyond three months from now."

"I'm not  _that_  fastidious," she sneered.

"Yes you are," Gaila smirked. "And that's ok. You're focused and driven. Sometimes I wish I could be more like you."

"You know, I have to admit, having you as a roommate has forced me to learn to roll with the punches a little more."

"Awww, look at that," Gaila grinned. "We rubbed off on each other."

"It's still weird when you try to borrow my underwear though," Nyota teased.

It wasn't the first time she realized how much she was going to miss Gaila after graduation. Aboard  _Enterprise_ , Nyota would probably have several other roommates, but none would ever come close to matching the relationship she had with the Orion woman standing to her left.

"I don't suppose you've gotten an assignment yet?" Nyota added, glancing in her friend's direction.

"No. Jim listed  _Enterprise_  as his first choice of assignment, which makes me wish I had put it down too."

Nyota gritted her teeth. Why couldn't she understand what a two-timing cheat her boyfriend was? She was worried Gaila was really falling for Kirk and hated the idea that she was setting herself up to get her heart broken by someone who didn't deserve it. Orion women loved easily, but they didn't  _fall_  for people easily.

Then Nyota was struck by another thought. "He didn't actually get  _assigned_  to  _Enterprise_ , did he?"

"No, he hasn't received orders yet either, so who knows, we might get lucky enough to end up together like you and Commander Sp-"

Nyota's eyes widened and she started to hiss at Gaila to keep her mouth shut in public about her relationship with Spock when a very unfortunate thing happened. Lieutenant Akamatsu strolled around the intersecting corridor and said, "Good morning, cadets."

They both stood straight and replied, "Good morning, ma'am."

"The two of you certainly seem relaxed."

"We were having a moment before the mission starts," Gaila replied with a weak smile.

"This is a starship, not a bar, ladies," Akamatsu retorted, not taking her eyes off Nyota. "Perhaps we could behave a little more professionally and not slouch against the walls."

Nyota's breath caught in her throat. "Aye, ma'am."

Lieutenant Holly Akamatsu had a reputation for being uptight, and though her reprimand seemed mean-spirited, Nyota didn't see the point in protesting. She only wanted to get as far away from her as possible. Had Akamatsu heard what Gaila said? Had Gaila even finished her sentence?

"The mission briefing starts in twenty minutes," Akamatsu continued. "You should get down to Cargo Bay 1. You don't want to be late."

"Aye, ma'am," they replied, but as they turned to leave, Akamatsu called, "Can I have a word with you, Cadet Uhura?"

Her heart skipped a beat. She refused to look at Gaila and risk letting her face betray her. While her friend continued down the hall, Nyota pivoted on her heel and faced Akamatsu. "Certainly, ma'am."

"I hear you're going to  _Enterprise_."

"Yes, ma'am," Nyota replied.

"That's a very prestigious assignment. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"I'm sure you deserve it." Akamatsu's biting tone suggested otherwise. Nyota resisted the urge to shift her weight on her feet or do anything to suggest she was nervous or uncomfortable. After a short staring match, Akamatsu said, "I was hoping to get an assignment to the same ship."

Nyota blinked. What was she getting at? More importantly, how was she supposed to respond to something like that? Did Akamatsu want to have her ego stroked or was she simply making an unsolicited statement?

"Well, like you said, it's a prestigious assignment and-"

"Maybe you could put in a good word for me?" Akamatsu interrupted.

" _Me_?" Nyota scoffed, momentarily forgetting she was addressing a superior officer. "I don't know anyone in Personnel Resources."

"I didn't imply that you did, but I think you do know  _someone_  who could help me out."

It took everything within her to keep from visibly shaking. She was trapped – checkmate in three moves, maybe less. Akamatsu wanted her to ask whom she was supposed to speak to on her behalf, and once she did that, it was a slippery slope to incriminating herself in an illicit relationship with Spock. The only way out of this was to shift the paradigm.

"Well, I hear you're a brilliant instructor, so I'm sure if there are open positions, you'll get one." Nyota made sure to flash her the most warm and sincere smile she could muster.

"Look, I realize you're only a cadet, but you'll learn very quickly that many assignments within Starfleet have as much to do with politics as they do with competence."

"And because I'm a cadet, surely you can understand how I'm the wrong person to be lobbying to for a position on  _Enterprise_ ," Nyota countered.

"I think you underestimate yourself. You're one of the top students at the Academy," Akamatsu stated. "Most of the faculty speak very highly of you and think you have a bright future ahead of you. I think some of the faculty might have taken a  _very_  special interest in you, in fact."

Nyota's eyes narrowed instinctively. "I have close working relationships with several people on the faculty. Lieutenant Bautista has been-"

"Yes, but only one member of the faculty is slated to become the  _Enterprise's_  first officer," Akamatsu interrupted.

Commander Spock, yes." Nyota noticed the slight tremor in her voice and wondered if Akamatsu did also.

"You know, I talked to him about you and he thinks you have a lot of potential. Wouldn't it be a shame to waste all that potential?"

"I don't understand," she replied, her voice uncharacteristically faint.

"I think you  _do_ ," the lieutenant insisted. "You sat through the same briefing as I did on Friday and I know you signed the same acknowledgment statement. I also know I saw you coming out of his quarters a month ago wearing a dress that left little to the imagination and just the other night, the two of you were sneaking out of Tarkington building together."

Nyota was stunned, caught in an elaborate maze of anger, confusion, and fear. "What does  _that_  prove? I'm not-"

"It doesn't prove anything, but it doesn't have to," Akamatsu interrupted. "Suspicion might not be the same thing as proof, but it can still really put a dent in someone's career ambitions."

Nyota swallowed and stared at Akamatsu's thin, sharp features. Either she was used to blackmailing people, or she was very good at feigning confidence.

A gentle hiss signaled the opening of an internal communications broadcast. " _Attention all personnel: the mission briefing will begin in fifteen minutes. Please make your way to Cargo Bay 1_."

"Well, you don't want to be late," Akamatsu sighed. "I would think about it, if I were you. You're dismissed."

Nyota turned, feeling like she was going to be thinking about this conversation with Akamatsu for a long time. She had to talk to Spock about getting Akamatsu a position on  _Enterprise_  or risk getting reported to the commandant for fraternization. And Akamatsu was probably right: even if there was an investigation and she and Spock were found innocent of any wrongdoing – even though they were definitely guilty – the existence of a formal investigation in their files would be damaging.

She wandered down C Deck toward the aft turbolift in a daze. When she arrived at Cargo Bay 1, she found 300 other members of the senior class mulling around. Gaila was standing with Kirk near the back and sporting an enormous grin, but Kirk was obviously distracted by Amy Nguyen, who was standing just behind Gaila and talking to Adam Hendorff.

Rather than involve herself with even  _more_  drama, she found the other communications cadets and struck up small talk with Rex Upton and Sarah McMillan. Unfortunately, all they wanted to talk about were their future assignments, which only reminded her of all the things she was trying to avoid thinking about.

She drifted away from their discussion and greeted Marzal, the Ardanan cadet who had been assigned as Beta shift's senior communications officer. The two of them had been in an informal yet fierce competition for grades and recognition during their first two years at the Academy, but they'd both gotten a little wiser and more cordial since then.

"It seems like the  _Mustang_  got the best of the best," he said, clasping her hands gently in the Ardanan greeting custom.

"I think you might be right," she agreed, scanning the room. The cargo bay was full of nearly all the top-ranked students in their class.

The senior class had been divided across four ships, the  _USS Mustang_ ,  _USS Ticonderoga_ ,  _USS Whittle_ , and  _USS Ceres_. Each ship carried approximately 300 cadets plus thirty advisors and graders and a senior observer-controller.

Nyota had participated in last year's senior training mission too, but the circumstances had been drastically different. Every year, the Academy took volunteers from the second and third year students to work alongside members of Starfleet's Training Command and serve as the opposition force, or the notional enemy for the exercise. It had been fun pretending to be a Klingon raider sneaking across the Neutral Zone, but it had also been enlightening.

Not only had she been able to get a sense for how these tactical training missions went, but also she'd been forced to think like the enemy. She'd had to devise strategies to mask communications traffic and got to participate in planning offensive tactical strategies. She'd hoped that experience would give her a leg up, but she doubted it. The scenario changed every year to prevent cheating and Spock was commanding the opposition force this time. How strange to think her boyfriend was now her enemy.

"Any guesses what we'll be doing this year?" Marzal asked.

"No idea," Nyota admitted. "What do you think?"

"Last year was Klingons. I'm thinking this year will be Romulans, which is unfortunate because my command of Romulan leaves a lot to be desired."

Nyota grinned inwardly. Her Romulan wasn't too shabby. Of course, they could be facing something else entirely. What if it was Nausicaans? She could barely string two words of that choppy language together. There was the universal translator, sure, but a lot of communications officers took pride in being able to translate directly.

Before either of them could speculate any further, the holo projector in the center of the cargo bay illuminated, showing a Rigellian man with a kind face. " _Good morning, cadets. Most of you have probably never met me, but I am Captain Zovosr, director of training and plans at Starfleet Academy_."

The hushed discussions ceased and the room fell completely silent.

" _I am sure most of you are looking forward to getting this mission brief so you can get started on your comprehensive tactical training exercise and be one step closer to graduating_."

The cadets murmured in agreement.

" _You have all spent your time at the Academy learning the rigors of starship operations and the nuances of your respective career fields, and I do not believe I need to tell you that this exercise will be a test of everything you have learned. Moments ago, you were sent copies of the operations order, but I will give a brief overview before the scenario begins_."

Nyota was certain she could have heard a pin drop and quickly realized she'd stopped breathing. She exhaled slowly, realizing this mission wasn't  _that_  serious. It was definitely important, but she needed to keep it in perspective.

" _Your vessels have been assigned to patrol the Coridan sector, which as you may know is a vital region of space for Federation trade. In the past year, reports of Orion Syndicate activity have increased, culminating in an attack on a private cargo ship last month_."

Many of the cadets cast sidelong glances at Gaila and chuckled. Nyota scowled and made eye contact with her friend and tried to offer a reassuring smile. Orion wasn't a Federation planet and Gaila's people were generally stereotyped as being pirates or criminals, and though Gaila always pretended to take it in stride, Nyota knew people's preconceived ideas about Orions deeply bothered her.

There  _were_  a lot of Orion pirates and the Orion Syndicate was perhaps the most famous organized crime collective in modern history, but Gaila had never even been to her home planet. She'd been raised in a multi-generational communal colony of mostly refugee women who'd escaped slavery. She'd been the first Orion admitted to Starfleet Academy and Nyota had always secretly admired her determination, but knew Gaila well enough to know she would never want it to be a big deal. Gaila just wanted to be treated like everyone else.

"Your mission is to patrol your assigned regions within this sector and search for unauthorized vessels while providing a strong presence that will discourage Orion Syndicate activities. You are authorized to use force if necessary."

Nyota listened to the anxious muttering of her fellow cadets and smiled. They'd been authorized to use weapons last year too, but it had been limited to low-yield phasers that couldn't even penetrate a thin duranium hull with a prolonged burst, let alone a starship with energy shielding and polarized hull plating.

It made sense: this mission was supposed to simulate a real mission in every way, and the weapons and tactical officers needed the opportunity to demonstrate their abilities too. When Captain Zovosr explained the exact nature of the "weapons" they would be using, the mood lightened a little, but the nervous expressions on everyone's faces refused to fade. This was fast becoming real.

 _"… so Standard time now is 0658 hours, which means in two minutes the scenario officially begins_ ," Captain Zovosr continued. " _You have your orders and I wish you all the best of luck, cadets. I hope to see you all at graduation. Zovosr out."_

Nyota sighed. A general patrol mission wasn't exactly ideal, because it meant anything could happen. Literally  _anything_. Zovosr had warned them about the Orion Syndicate, but that didn't mean they would actually encounter Orions. It could very well be Klingons or Cardassians.

Of course, this was just a training exercise. They weren't actually in the Coridan system; they were in the Wolf 359 system, which was nestled deep within Federation territory. Any "Klingons" they might encounter would be the Starfleet opposition force.

"Good news and bad news," Marzal mused.

"I was just thinking the same thing," Nyota admitted. "He went out of his way to warn us about the Orions, so it makes me think it's probably going to be something else we end up running into."

"We are of one mind," the Ardanan smiled, before clasping her hands again. "I am on Beta shift, so I will be seeing you in the bridge in eight hours. I wish you well, Nyota Uhura."

What Marzal wished and what actually happened weren't exactly the same. The  _Mustang's_  bridge design featured two half circles around an elevated central captain's chair. For the next eight hours, Nyota was glued to her console, too busy to be bothered by Kirk's irritating presence or her growing dread concerning her rapidly expanding list of problems.

The early hours of the shift were tense, but she understood that nothing would probably happen on the first day. Nothing would probably happen for at least a  _week_  while the cadets got settled into their roles and the four ships spread out over the sector. This didn't stop her from keeping a close eye on all channels though; complacency was easily the biggest enemy they were going to face.

The advisors and graders moved about the ship and Akamatsu was watching the bridge operations from a nearby briefing room, but for all intents and purposes, this was  _their_  mission. The advisors would stop them from doing something that would get someone hurt or killed, but they were functionally on their own.

The graders would periodically pop into different departments and ask questions about the mission or the cadets' assigned jobs, but the cadets didn't actually know who had been assigned to grade them, which Nyota thought was a smart move. It kept cadets from cozying up to any one grader in an effort to get a better performance review and forced them to focus on the mission under the assumption that every single action was being scrutinized at all times.

Each shift had its own command crew and was responsible for communicating with the other shifts to develop a comprehensive strategy, as well as coordinating with the other three vessels in the sector. As the senior communications officer for Alpha shift, she had her hands full, but she did find a few quiet moments throughout the day.

Gaila was on the far wall behind the captain's chair, but the communications desk was right next to the helm, which gave her the chance to occasionally converse with Sulu and Maloney, whom she learned had also been assigned to  _Enterprise_. Her eight-hour shift flew by and when Marzal tapped her on the shoulder at 1500 hours to relieve her, she was surprised.

As Alpha shift left the bridge, Kirk called them all aside and gave a short pep talk that concluded with, "Good work today, people."

Nyota rolled her eyes, an action that didn't go unnoticed by her acting captain. As they all began to wander back to their cramped quarters or grab a meal, he pulled her aside. "Do you have a problem with compliments, Cadet Uhura?"

"No."

"No…  _sir_?" he corrected. The usual playful demeanor of his face was gone, replaced by arrogant seriousness.

She gawked at him. "You're a cadet just like me and this is a training exercise," she snapped. "If and when you ever outrank me, I will  _never_  hesitate to show you the proper respect, but just so you know, it's the  _rank_  I respect, not the person."

"Why do you hate me so much?" he asked.

"Because you're dating one of my best friends and you still flirt with me. Because you think rules don't apply to you. Because you think you're better than everyone else. Because you have a terrible attitude. Because we're even  _having_  this conversation."

"That's a lot of accusations to address in one go," he retorted. "And a lot of those statements apply to you too."

Her mouth hung open and she took a deep breath to keep from yelling at him. "I don't act like I'm above the rules, I don't have a bad attitude, and I  _definitely_  don't think I'm better than anyone else."

"If you don't think you're better than anyone else, why should I?" he asked, a small smile trickling across his lips. "Admit it, you're good at what you do, that's why you got assigned to  _Enterprise_."

"Yeah, I'm good at my job, and maybe that means I'm better than some other people at being a communications officer, but I would never  _treat_  them like they were lesser because of it."

"And you think I treat people like they're lesser?"

Nyota wasn't in the mood for an interrogation. Kirk had no idea how dangerously close he was to setting her off. "The fact that you came up to me and told me I need to call you 'sir' just proves how drunk you get off your own power."

"That's probably true," he agreed. "But you couldn't even keep from rolling your eyes when I told the bridge crew they did a good job, so am I really the only one with a bad attitude?"

His last statement floored her. He might have actually made a decent point. But he was such an insufferable person that she couldn't take anything he did seriously. Why couldn't he understand that?

"Look, respect goes both ways," she muttered.

"I agree."

"I'm not calling you 'sir.' I  _won't_ ," she added, before taking a deep breath to say, "But I will apologize for rolling my eyes at you earlier. It was uncalled for. And from here on out, I'll do my best to show you respect in front of the rest of the bridge crew, so long as you act in a manner worthy of that respect."

Kirk chewed his bottom lip and nodded. "That's all I ask. Anyway, I'm late for a date."

She gave him a pointed look and he added, "With Gaila."

Nyota wandered back to her quarters, which she shared with three other women – Gaila, Sarah McMillan, and Jiao Ling. Gaila was gone, presumably somewhere with Kirk, and Sarah and Jiao were both on Beta shift. She lay on the top bunk and stared at the low ceiling, finally allowing herself to acknowledge the full weight of her problems.

She wanted to talk to Spock and tell him about Akamatsu, but she couldn't risk that. She'd brought her personal PADD but they weren't on Earth anymore, which meant if she wanted to send a message that wouldn't take a century to reach him, she'd have to use the ship's array and send it on subspace.

It would be easy for her to do, but it would be just as easy for someone else to intercept it. Given there were three other ships in this sector full of eager cadets chomping at the bit to prove themselves and scanning for any tiny blip on every channel, any message she sent was practically  _guaranteed_  to get intercepted. Even if she encrypted it so no one could distinguish the contents of the message, someone could easily trace the source of the signal back to the  _Mustang_ , and it wouldn't take a whole lot to trace it back to Nyota from there.

Then she had a wild idea, which was immediately followed by a profound sense of shame. The idea of sending a message to Spock had been based on the fact that their PADDs had communicated before and were therefore synced to search for a particular signal. She didn't know  _where_  Spock was exactly, but she could theoretically use her PADD to scan for his, ping it, and derive his location from there. Since Spock was commanding the opposition force, that would be  _immensely_  helpful during this training scenario.

If she did that, not only would she be violating the Academy's fraternization rules, but she'd be stomping all over the academic dishonesty policy. Using a preexisting relationship with a faculty member to gain an advantage in a training scenario? Anyone who would do that was the kind of person she would despise.

Worst of all, she'd be using Spock for her own personal gain and breaking his trust after they'd both agreed to keep their personal and professional lives separate. It wasn't that she'd ever really considered doing it, but the fact that the idea even crossed her mind, however briefly, made her hate herself.

Nyota wasn't in the habit of crying, but her life felt like it was rapidly on track to spiral out of control. She was risking everything to date Spock and had been on the fence about putting their relationship on hold, and now Akamatsu was blackmailing her. Even if she had temporarily broken things off with Spock, Akamatsu would still be twisting her arm to get an assignment on  _Enterprise_.

Then there was  _that_  to consider. Even if Nyota talked Spock into giving Akamatsu a good recommendation, what if it didn't work out for whatever reason? She could still report them out of spite. Or what if she actually got the assignment? Then Nyota would have to see her every day aboard  _Enterprise_ , knowing all the while exactly the kind of snake the woman was.

She lay in her bunk, stewing on her problems for what felt like an eternity until she finally settled into a fitful sleep. She woke up at 0600 hours the next morning to a growling stomach and the sounds of Gaila's persistent snoring. She woke her friend and they grabbed breakfast, and when she arrived on the bridge, Rex Upton, the Gamma shift senior communications officer, informed her that the universal translator had been taken offline while the computer engineers ran a diagnostic.

"Good morning, ladies and gents!"

Nyota turned in her seat to see Kirk flop into the captain's chair, an apple in hand and an irritating grin on his face.

"Good morning," Nyota replied, trying to be civil.

He glanced at her, smiled, and took a huge bite from his apple. "What do you all have to report?"

Flecks of apple particulate flew from his mouth. She prepared to tell him about the universal translator, but the tactical officer beat her to it, explaining that some of the ship's computers were scheduled to be offline for the next two hours.

She turned back around and tried to focus on her work, but found that difficult to do as she listened to Kirk practically suckle on his apple. How could anyone eat so loudly? She sent messages to the  _Ticonderoga_ ,  _Whittle_ , and  _Ceres_ , asking for their mission statuses and transmitted yesterday's summary log to them. She scanned all normal and subspace channels, sent messages to several departments asking for status updates, and then scanned all channels again.

Then she noticed something. There was a strange deviation in one of the lower subspace bands. It was very small, but it was there. She scanned it several more times, but unfortunately the computer system she needed to analyze the discrepancy was offline for the diagnostic.

It occurred to her that maybe she was just hearing things because she wanted to, a sort of psychological effect from listening too hard. Even if it was something, it might not even be related to their mission. She'd been very quick to jump on the faint Romulan transmission she'd detected in the long range sensor lab last week, and that had ended up being nothing and she'd ended up being embarrassed.

Still… even though it was probably nothing, maybe it  _wasn't_. She scanned the subspace bands again, seeing if she could isolate the frequency by ear. It was slow work and the captain's raucous joking wasn't making it any easier. She closed her eyes and focused.

"So are you excite-" Sulu began. She held up her finger to cut him off.

She  _almost_  had it. Then it disappeared. She took her earpiece out and massaged her forehead. Maybe she really  _was_  chasing ghosts.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" she asked Sulu, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

"Did you pick up something?" he replied, nodding in the direction of her console.

"I thought I found something on a low subspace band, but the frequency harmonics…"

She froze and put her earpiece back in and scanned again. Surely not… The microscopic anomaly was still there and when she checked the exact channel, she laughed out loud. Someone was disguising transmissions by piggybacking off the  _Mustang's_  subspace signals. She'd spent the past few months working on a thesis to derive an optimized program for distinguishing between fundamental frequencies, and she had just done it by ear.

She slowly scanned for the channel and just as the signal started to disappear, she stopped. It was weak and there was some subspace interference, but it was there. She ran a decryption algorithm, thankful that particular program hadn't fallen victim to the computer team's diagnostic, and when the computer had analyzed enough of it to translate the signal into language, her heart skipped a beat.

They were speaking  _Orion_. She pulled up the digital keyboard and began typing notes on her screen, but she wasn't very proficient in the breathy language. She'd picked up some from Gaila over the years but she'd never actually studied it.

" _Gaila_!"

The whole bridge crew turned to stare at her, including Kirk, who looked at her like she'd lost her mind.

"I'm picking up an Orion signal," she explained quickly, looking between Kirk and Gaila. "I know some Orion, but not enough to get an accurate translation and the UT's offline. I need a translator."

Gaila raced across the room and Nyota offered her an earpiece, before eventually yielding the chair to her. It wounded her pride a little as the senior communications officer to let someone else do her job – particularly someone who wasn't in communications – but this was an unusual situation. The bridge was completely silent for five minutes, except for Gaila's fingers typing away on the console screen.

When Gaila pulled the earpiece from her ear, Nyota could see her expression was nothing short of triumphant.

"What do you have for me, Gaila?" Kirk asked.

"I only got the last half of the message, but there's no question – it's the opposition force," Gaila breathed. "They have at least three ships, maybe more. They're planning to seize the  _Ticonderoga_  tomorrow. One of the ships is  _following_  it and the  _Ticonderoga_  doesn't seem to have any idea. They're hiding in its ion trail."

A very palpable, nervous excitement began to radiate through the bridge crew. Nyota was proud of herself – and Gaila – for the sudden discovery. She grimaced when she made eye contact with Kirk, knowing full well the cocky idiot was going to do something to ruin their advantage, but to her surprise, he stood from the captain's chair and asked, "Can you send an encrypted message to the  _Ticonderoga_  and let them know?"

"Uh, yeah," she replied.

"Great, but before you do that, we need to come up with a plan."

What Kirk came up with was so simple, so rational, and so bold that Nyota couldn't hide the fact that she was impressed. They organized with the  _Ceres_  to cover their sub-sector of space and set an intercept course for the  _Ticonderoga_ , travelling at warp factor 6.4, the  _Mustang's_  top speed, to ambush the ambushers.

It took them an hour to reach the other ship and they used that time to coordinate an offensive strategy. Maloney had managed to plot a course that brought them around several gas giants and put them directly behind the enemy ship. They were using the same tactics to hide from the opposition force as the opposition force had been using to hide from the  _Ticonderoga_ , and it seemed though the enemy ship was oblivious to their approach.

As the  _Mustang_  inched into weapons range, the  _Ticonderoga_  dropped out of warp and prepared to engage the enemy. A very fierce and very short battle ensued – at least as fierce as it could be using low-yield phasers – and when it was over, the  _Ticonderoga_  and  _Mustang_  had successfully disabled the enemy ship.

"Open a channel, Uhura," Kirk ordered.

She hated the way he talked to her, but she was too high on adrenaline and success to give a snide reply. "I have them."

"Put it on screen," he replied.

She did, and the person that appeared was a most welcome sight. Spock, his face cool and neutral as ever, stood before the captain's chair on the bridge of the enemy ship, his hands tucked behind his back as they always were.

"This is Captain James Kirk of the starship  _Mustang_. You refused orders to comply with our requests and have fired on two Federation vessels. I would like to discuss terms for the surrender of your ship."

Spock thought to himself for a moment and replied, "No."

The screen went dark, and though Spock was theoretically the enemy, she was deeply surprised and impressed by his defiance. It was  _sexy_ , even. Before they could arrange a boarding party, the enemy ship restored power to its engines and fled. They pursued it for eighteen more hours before Gamma shift finally apprehended them.

When she arrived for her bridge shift the next morning, she was startled to see Spock standing with Akamatsu and another captain she'd never seen. The man she was secretly dating, the woman who was blackmailing her for dating him, and a high-ranking senior officer. No, this wasn't going to be weird at all.

"This is the cadet who intercepted the signal, sir," Akamatsu said, gesturing to Nyota. "Cadet Nyota Uhura."

"Cadet Uhura," the man repeated, offering a handshake. "I'm Captain Pike, captain of the  _Enterprise_. I hear you're coming to work for me in a few months."

It was worse than she thought. Not only had she made Spock look incompetent by detecting his ship's signal just two days into the exercise, but also their future captain had been around to witness it. She hated that such a personally proud moment could also be so agonizing.

"Um, yes sir," she replied, shaking his hand, unable to bring herself to look at Spock. "It's great to meet you, and it's a big honor to be able to serve aboard the Federation's flagship."

"After seeing what you pulled off yesterday, I think the honor is all mine. Spock tells me you're quite the communications expert."

"Yes, she has on multiple occasions demonstrated an exceptional aural sensitivity and an unparalleled ability to identify sonic anomalies in subspace transmissions tests," Spock agreed.

The joy of receiving such high praise from a man whose opinion mattered so much was marred by the awkward circumstances. Nyota felt Akamatsu's eyes boring a hole in her and immediately recognized a unique opportunity. Maybe she wouldn't have to beg Spock to put in a good word to Pike about Akamatsu after all: she could just bring it up herself.

"Well, I had really great instructors," Nyota explained, trying to find an appropriate way to segue to Akamatsu, but her hopes were dashed when Kirk and Gaila strolled onto the bridge.

"Good to see you again, Cadet Kirk," Pike called. "It's been a long time."

Kirk and Gaila joined the fray, and as Pike got distracted hearing about how Gaila had actually translated the message, Nyota finally dared herself to look at Spock. What must he be thinking?

He met her eyes and Nyota felt a flurry of butterflies in her stomach. She was getting a lot better at reading the subtle hints of subconscious emotions in his expressions, and what she found in his eyes wasn't anything remotely resembling anger, humiliation, or disappointment. It was  _pride_.


	23. Realizations Over Greensleeves

Rays of young sunlight cut through the misty fog shrouding the bay. Spock stepped from the transport shuttle onto the tarmac and followed the rest of his crew of junior cadets to the reception station at the far end of the flight line. He was exhausted but the day was only just beginning.

It was Friday morning and he'd spent the past twelve days acting as the opposition force commander for the senior class' training exercise. Nyota and the other senior cadets would return on Saturday afternoon after they'd completed post-mission maintenance on the four ships and participated in a series of peer evaluations.

She'd done remarkably well, but the scenario had been inherently flawed due to their pre-existing relationship. Nyota had once been his student and he knew from experience that she was meticulously thorough and skilled at detecting aberrations in harmonic frequencies. This knowledge had given him an unfair advantage, as he'd anticipated she would scan on a wider band than was required under standard operating procedures and he'd adjusted his tactics accordingly.

He hadn't grappled long with his professional ethics however. It was logical to assume that if their relationship  _had_  conferred an advantage upon him, the inverse could also be true. After all, she'd still detected his ship and the rest of the  _Mustang_ 's crew had managed to successfully outmaneuver and seize his vessel.

Furthermore, few confrontations between enemies were truly neutral or fair and a close acquaintance with one's enemy was not unusual. Many of the greatest battles throughout Federation history had taken place between adversaries who knew each other quite well. The final Great Vulcan War before the Time of the Awakening had been fought between armies led by two brothers, Lorel and Sevel.

All other things being equal, she had done  _very_  well. Spock was not responsible for grading the senior cadets for this mission, but if he  _were_ , he wouldn't hesitate to categorize Nyota's performance as exceptional. During his entire tenure at the Academy, he'd only given five of the coveted exceptional ratings, and three of those had been to the survivors of the  _Dalton_   _II_ mission.

Spock inhaled deeply and was startled to discover he was out of breath after walking less than fifty meters. He felt completely drained of energy and was slowly becoming aware of a dull headache forming at the base of his skull. He'd slept a total of ten hours during the entire twelve-day mission and though it was tempting to return to his quarters and rest when they arrived back at campus, his duties hadn't ceased during his absence.

His teaching assistants had lectured in his place, but TA evaluations were due to student resources in two weeks. He had two exams to draft, five recommendations to write, a laboratory procedures manual to revise, his flight and transporter certifications had to be renewed before he could assume his posting as first officer of the  _Enterprise_ , and he needed to confer with Lieutenant Nowak and the Information Security Office regarding the suspected  _Kobayashi Maru_  hack.

He entered the reception station, took a seat on one of the long benches, and waited for the Academy shuttle bus with the thirty junior cadets who had supplemented his crew during the training mission. Despite their inexperience, they'd also performed reasonably well and their evaluation reports would also be due in two weeks.

He extracted his Academy-issued PADD from the side pocket of his personal bag and powered it on. He'd been unable to use it during the mission due to operations security – the senior cadets would have easily detected any subspace transmissions – and after twelve days of neglect, he was now faced with the task of reading through 1,345 messages. 412 of those were marked urgent.

He closed his eyes and resisted the urge to fall asleep. He remained that way for several seconds until a high-pitched, accented voice from the bench behind him asked, "Sir? Are you well?"

He opened his eyes and turned his head to see Cadet Anna Sokolov, a talented third year engineering major, staring at him expectantly. His neck ached all the way down to his shoulder blades.

"I am," he replied, noting a tickling sensation at the back of his throat. "Please excuse my inattention."

"It's no problem, sir," Sokolov replied. "But the shuttle bus is here."

He rose to his feet and immediately felt dizzy, but managed to compose himself enough to take a head count of the junior cadets and verify all thirty had boarded the shuttle. In a rare display of unprofessionalism, he fell asleep on the short ride back to the Academy and was startled awake when the driver jerked the magnetic braking system.

He exited the shuttle and waited for the cadets to file out and assemble into a formation on the south lawn. A light breeze chilled him, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. He thanked them for the service and dedication during the mission, dismissed them for the weekend, and proceeded to his office to begin the arduous task of reading 1,345 messages.

As he turned the corner to enter the corridor, he heard a familiar voice exclaim, "Commander Spock! Back already! How'd it go?"

He saw Commander Riegelman in her office, nearly hidden amid dozens of floral displays. He spied a vase sporting a dozen purple chrysanthemum blossoms and thought briefly of Nyota. He paused in the doorway and replied breathily, "I believe the post mission analysis will be available next week."

"I figured as much," she laughed. "I just wanted to know it went for  _you_."

"Specify." The tickle in his throat now felt like an intense itch when he spoke.

"Any fun stories? Any surprises?"

"Perhaps you could define your parameters of-" He was momentarily interrupted by a slight cough.

She sat up straight in her chair and narrowed her eyes. "Are you feeling ok?"

" _Ok_  is an imprecise term," he informed her, sputtering his words through muffled coughs.

"Right, but you're really pale."

Spock considered her question. His current state of health wasn't optimal, but he hadn't been able to follow his usual regimen of meditation and sleep during the training mission. It was likely his condition would resolve itself with adequate rest.

"Commander Spock?" muttered a meek voice from behind him.

He turned to see Cadet Eleanor Applebaum shuffling her feet. She was a first year cadet from his computing theory seminar, a tiny female with pale hair, skin, and eyes. Her cheeks reddened when he made eye contact with her.

"Oh!  _Sorry_ , sir," she mumbled. "I didn't see you were in the middle of a conversation. I don't want to interrupt."

"What do you require of me, Cadet Applebaum?"

"I didn't think you would be back until next week," she stammered. "I had a question about the instructions for the final project, but I can come back another time."

Spock glanced at Commander Riegelman and was about to excuse himself to see to Cadet Applebaum, but she shook her head and said, "You should go get checked out at medical. See you later, Commander Spock."

Cadet Applebaum followed him to his office and consumed half an hour of his time agonizing over the jumbled coding of her end-of-term project. More students quickly began trickling in with other educational woes. He typically held office hours on Friday mornings but hadn't anticipated many cadets would attend today, given he'd been absent during the past two weeks. Unfortunately, the inverse seemed to be true.

His voice quickly faded into a hoarse gasp and soon his eyes began to water. When the last cadet left two hours later, he shut the door and slumped into his chair. He was feverish and fatigued, his headache now encompassed his entire head, his throat was sore, his body ached, and he was short of breath even without any physical exertion. He was not a physician, but it was logical to conclude he was falling ill, so he decided to take Commander Riegelman's advice and report to medical.

When he arrived at the clinic on the other side of campus, he could barely breathe and was consumed in a fit of paroxysmal coughing that nearly made him vomit. A medical cadet named Wheeler quickly ushered him to an exam room, took his vitals and a blood sample, and called for a staff physician. Several minutes later, a young Trill woman entered, introduced herself as Dr. Jaro, and took a seat on a small stool across from him.

"Good morning, Commander Spock," she said, offering a warm smile.

He attempted to reply but was reduced to another fit of coughing.

"That  _does_  sound nasty," she said with a click of her tongue. "How long ago did these symptoms start?"

Rather than struggle through a series of questions to ascertain which symptoms she was referring to or explain he couldn't give her a precise answer, he simply croaked, "I became consciously aware of a change in my health status several hours ago."

The cadet returned and offered a PADD to Dr. Jaro. Her eyebrows rose high as she skimmed the information and eventually announced, "The nucleic acid synthesis results came back pretty quickly. It seems as though you've contracted Tarkalean flu."

Spock immediately recalled the Tarkalean flight chief who'd sneezed in his face prior to his trip to the space dock to visit Captain Pike and tour  _Enterprise_. Given that fact and his current symptoms, he didn't doubt Dr. Jaro's diagnosis, but he was puzzled nonetheless.

"I have been vaccinated against Tarkalean flu," he informed her.

She wheeled around on her stool and accessed his medical records from the computer terminal behind her. She scanned for several minutes before finally murmuring, "That's  _interesting_. I see your last booster was four years ago – you  _should_  be fine."

It would be illogical to argue with her about the difference between what he "should be" and what he currently  _was_. Even if he'd wanted to correct her, he would have found it impossible due to another bout of violent coughing that made him gag.

"I'm going to get you a cough suppressant," she said, rising to her feet. "I'm also going to consult with the resident immunologist. I'll be right back, commander."

He nodded and managed to get his cough under control. His head was throbbing, his nose was beginning to run, and there was a soft ringing in his ears. He closed his eyes and pondered his diagnosis.

Many species were immune to Tarkalean flu, but Vulcans and Rigelians were highly susceptible. Even Tarkaleans were largely immune to the disease, having co-evolved with the microbe for many millennia. Yet many Tarkaleans still passively carried the virus and could occasionally transmit it to vulnerable species. Spock was neither an epidemiologist nor a physician by training, but the Tarkalean flu pandemic of 2101 was still currently taught at the Academy as a case study in first contact protocols.

When Vulcans first made contact with the Tarkaleans in 2101, they unknowingly returned to Vulcan infected with the virus. Due to similarities between the molecular structures of the viral envelope and Vulcan lung tissue, the bioscanner technology of the previous century hadn't been able to detect the presence of the microbe. Further complicating the problem was that Tarkalean flu was highly contagious and had a long and variable incubation period – between 10 and 80 days – and despite being asymptomatic, infected individuals could still easily spread the virus to others. The virus quietly crept around the planet within a week, infecting an estimated thirty percent of the Vulcan population before the first patients began appearing in hospitals.

Despite its severe respiratory symptoms, Tarkalean flu was rarely fatal to healthy Vulcan adults, but it could cause serious complications in young children and immunocompromised individuals without adequate medical intervention. It had taken nearly a year for the health authorities to get the outbreak completely under control and was still widely regarded as the worst public health crisis of the 22nd century. 150 years later, improvements in bioscanning technology and widespread vaccination programs made Tarkalean flu an extremely rare occurrence on Vulcan and Rigel, but it continued to serve as a powerful lesson about the dangers of casual space exploration.

He heard the door slide open and peeked through his eyelids to find Cadet Wheeler brandishing a hypospray. "I have your cough suppressant, sir. And Dr. Jaro also authorized me to give you a general analgesic for your other symptoms."

Just as Cadet Wheeler finished giving him the second injection, Dr. Jaro returned with another physician who identified herself as Dr. Cole, the resident immunologist.

"I'm sorry you're not feeling well, commander," Dr. Cole sighed.

"I do not believe sympathy is an effective form of treatment," he replied.

Dr. Cole smirked, exchanged glances with Dr. Jaro, and crossed her arms. He recognized her body language as indicative of offense. Humans were so easily offended. He felt a small surge of frustration at his unintended rudeness and struggled to suppress it.

"Unfortunately because you're already symptomatic, our treatment options are somewhat limited and mostly revolve around managing your symptoms while your immune system does the dirty work," Dr. Jaro explained. "I'm synthesizing a dose of antibodies and antivirals to help things along, but it's not going to be a quick fix. You're going to be spending the next couple weeks in bed."

"And I'm concerned with why your vaccine failed," Dr. Cole added. "I'm aware you're a human-Vulcan hybrid-"

"And yet humans are immune to Tarkalean flu," Spock interrupted.

"I know, which makes this a little more baffling and makes it hard to give you an accurate prognosis. Because there are so few human-Vulcan hybrids, there's nothing in the medical literature to explain reduced efficacy in the current vaccine for individuals with your physiology. I pulled the lot numbers of the vaccine you were given four years ago and there have been no recalls or reported failures."

Spock drew in a deep breath and fought to avoid another coughing spell.

"Commander Spock, I'd like to take a closer look at your immune system, particularly your lymphocytes. I'm doing post-doctoral research in interspecies cell-mediated responses and-"

"You would like to include me in your research and you require my consent," Spock finished, still fighting to subdue his annoyance.

"Well,  _yes_ ," she blushed.

As a fellow scientist, he understood her duty to investigate the matter. Furthermore, it would be illogical to refuse, as her research could enhance scientific understanding of hybrid physiology and could potentially result in the development of better vaccines and treatment methodologies. He allowed her to collect twelve vials of blood and samples of his bone marrow and lymphoid tissue.

The analgesic and the cough suppressant were finally beginning to function, but Spock could barely stay awake when the public health nurse arrived and asked him for a detailed list of all the susceptible species he'd come into contact with since his exposure. He understood the valid public health concerns of spreading Tarkalean flu in such a diverse population as Starfleet Academy, but his diminished health was having a profound effect on his ability to regulate his emotions.

It was another hour before Dr. Jaro allowed him to return to his quarters with two weeks of convalescent leave and prescriptions to help manage his symptoms. He stopped by his office on the way back to his building to collect his personal bag and his Academy-issued PADD and saw his unread message count was now at 1,501 messages.

He powered the device off, trudged back to his quarters, and fell into his bed after removing his shoes. Many Vulcans were adept at directing their body's healing responses, but it required a deep semi-meditative state that transcended sleep.

When he awoke some time later to the sound of his personal PADD chiming to announce an incoming message, he had no concept of how long he'd been asleep. It was dark outside and he could hear the distant sounds of music from a concert in the park. He was chilled and feverish, his neck was swollen and extremely tender to the touch, and his cough had returned.

He stumbled out of bed and saw the message was from Nyota. It simply read. " _I'm back. Can I come over_?"

His mind was foggy but he recalled she wasn't due to return until Saturday afternoon. He glanced at the time in the top left corner of his PADD and realized it was Saturday evening – he'd slept for approximately thirty hours.

Another round of coughing seized him, sending waves of agony through his swollen throat and aching head and body. He shuffled to his nightstand and withdrew the autoinjector hypospray Dr. Jaro had prescribed, carefully adjusted the settings and gave himself another dose of the cough suppressant and pain reliever, and fell into his bed, pulling the heavy comforter over himself.

His fingers lethargically traced over the PADD's glass screen until he found the correct sequence of commands to dictate a return message to Nyota, saying, "I would not advise a visit. I have contracted Tarkalean-" He paused as more coughing racked his body. He gave himself several moments to catch his breath and continued. "Flu. I am on convalescent leave for two weeks."

He sent the message, set the PADD on the small table by his bed, and drifted back into a fitful, aching sleep. Seconds later – or what  _seemed_  like seconds later – his PADD began a series of shrill chirps. He fumbled with the device's controls until he successfully answered the transmission.

" _This is Melinda from the San Francisco Transporter Office. Nyota Uhura is requesting to transport to your home location. Are you willing to authorize this transport_?"

Spock rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He had told Nyota to stay away, but he could not deny that it would please him to see her. He croaked an affirmative reply through his inflamed vocal cords and sat up, kicking his legs over the corner of the bed. Several seconds later he sensed a surge of energy pulse through the front sitting room and heard her voice call out, " _Spock_?"

He rose to his feet and staggered to open the door of his bedroom, but she beat him to it. The pneumatic door slid into the wall and she appeared, holding two cloth bags. The moment she laid eyes on him, her expression faltered.

"Oh Spock, you look  _awful_."

Though his eyes were watering and his vision was slightly distorted, he thought she looked quite beautiful. She was wearing tight athletic pants and a loose cotton shirt. He tried to tell her so, but the only sound that came out of his mouth was a raspy whistle. She breezed past him, set the bags on his nightstand, and urged him to join her.

"You're still in your uniform," she tisked. "Don't you have pajamas or clothes that you normally sleep in?"

He sighed and gave her a pointed look.

"You're having a hard time talking, aren't you?" she asked.

He nodded and sat down on the edge of his bed. She took a seat next to him and gently touched her right palm to his forehead. "Well, you're all sweaty and clammy. We should get you out of these clothes and into something more comfortable."

She found her way to the drawers built into the wall opposite his bed. Her familiarity with his belongings was intriguing, but he found he wasn't bothered by it. He joined her and pulled open the middle drawer on the left and extracted a set of meditation clothing.

She waited for him outside the bedroom lavatory while he took a quick sonic shower and changed into his night robes. When he caught sight of himself in the mirror as he removed his uniform, he was startled at the reflection. The lymph nodes in his neck and under his jaw were so swollen they distorted the shape of the lower half of his face. His facial hair was also coming in, casting a dark shade over his cheeks, neck, and jaw. His usually immaculate hair was slightly too long after two weeks without a trim and in a state of disarray from sleeping an entire day away.

When he emerged from the lavatory ten minutes later, he didn't feel better but he certainly looked and smelled a little better. Nyota had changed his bed sheets and was pulling the top corner down.

"Thank you," he rasped.

"Don't talk if it's hurting you," she replied, gently patting the bed.

He joined her at his bedside, but rather than tuck himself in between the sheets as she'd obviously intended, he clutched both of her hands in his and traced his forefingers over hers. A soft smile spread across her lips. She looked into his eyes and said, "I'm sorry you're not feeling well."

It was illogical for her to apologize – she had not infected him, after all – but rather than waste energy telling her so, he continued to gently stroke her hands.

"I uh- there was an interplanetary bistro a few blocks away from the transporter office," she said. "I stopped by there and they had plomeek soup and kreyla and I remember you telling me at the coffee shop that you really liked those dishes, so I thought I'd bring you some."

His stomach involuntarily growled at her mention of food and he glanced at the cloth bags sitting on his nightstand. He nodded in thanks and turned to make his way to the dining room.

"Where are you going?"

"To eat," he squawked, pointing to the bags and wondering why she would ask an obvious question.

"I told you not to talk," she scowled.

"I was answering your question," he retorted, ending his sentence with several wheezing coughs.

She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. "Why don't you eat in bed?"

A memory from long ago resurfaced. He was five years of age and had taken ill with viral tonsillitis. His mother had stayed by his bedside for three days, an act that his father had condemned as "indulgent." She'd served him plomeek and barkaya marak soup in bed with lemon tea and sheekuya, an iced, mint-flavored drink.

As he'd grown older, he learned that Vulcans only consumed meals in bed if it were medically necessary due to severe injury or illness. As Spock could still ambulate reasonably well, dining in bed would be highly illogical.

He studied her face and judged by the firmness in her features that she was going to continue to insist and it would be illogical to continue to refuse when it was just as easy to acquiesce. He slid between the sheets and she left the room and quickly returned with the large brown and black decorative tray from his coffee table. She set up the bowl of soup for him and left to get a spoon and a cloth napkin from his kitchen.

Spock nibbled at the crunchy kreyla biscuits as he waited. It was difficult to swallow with his inflamed throat and the infection had greatly altered his senses of taste and smell, but he was grateful for her kindness. She returned five minutes later with the spoon, the napkin, a glass of water, and two mugs containing some kind of steaming beverage. He looked to her for an explanation and she simply smiled and said, "It's maembe chai – my mother used to make it for me when I was sick."

He accepted one of the cups and took a sip. It was at optimal temperature and reminiscent of a hot version of sheekuya – mild with several distinct citrus notes. She crawled beside him on the bed, cupping her own mug and taking gentle sips. They sat together in silence as Spock ate his soup and nursed the delicious tea she called maembe chai.

When he began to cough, she helped administer another dose of the cough suppressant and analgesic and when he was finished eating, she cleared away the dishes and propped herself next to him in the bed. He wished to converse with her, but his throat and vocal cords were in no condition to do so for any length of time.

He held up his hands and asked, "Will you permit a mind meld?"

"Of course," she smiled, leaning forward.

The moment his fingertips met the necessary sites on her cheeks and jaw, he felt a rush of contentment.

" _You really didn't want me to come_?" she asked through their newly formed meld.

" _I did not wish to subject you to my illness_ ," he explained.

" _I didn't think humans could get Tarkalean flu_."

" _They cannot. You are not at risk. Yet I did not wish to burden you with attending to me. I am not too ill to care for myself_."

Their minds remained locked but she opened her eyes and scanned them along the edges of his face. She didn't reply, but through the meld he immediately understood that she knew he was capable of tending to his own needs but she'd come because she cared deeply for him.

" _Thank you, Nyota_ ," he added.

" _You're welcome, Spock_ ," she replied, smiling slightly.

" _You are troubled_ ," he remarked, sensing her mood through their link but unable to ascertain the source of her worry.

" _I don't want to bother you with that stuff right now_ ," she said, closing her eyes again.

" _I am sick; I am not incapable of understanding your concerns_."

She sighed and her mood continued to shift down the path of anxiety. She finally replied, " _I'm sorry if I made you look bad in front of Captain Pike_."

" _Your apology is illogical._   _My methods for avoiding detection were innovative, but your strategy for locating me also demonstrated a remarkable degree of talent and ingenuity. Captain Pike was impressed with your performance, but that does not mean he was disappointed with mine_."

Spock recalled Pike's brief encounter with Nyota following his capture by the  _Mustang_. He had wondered if Pike would intuit their relationship, but if he had, he hadn't commented on it.

Vulcans rarely discussed their personal lives with others, but he knew the custom was essential to building rapport among humans. Pike was one of his oldest friends and he'd shared more with the man over the years than he ever had with anyone else, and though he briefly considered confessing his relationship to Pike during his visit to  _Enterprise_ , but concluded the risk was too great. Captain Pike was his friend, but he would also be his commanding officer in several months and Spock had nothing to gain and much to lose by admitting to a forbidden relationship with a former student.

"You wanted to tell him about us?" Nyota gasped out loud, clearly deciphering his thoughts through the meld.

Spock gripped her face more tightly and answered telepathically, " _Captain Pike is a friend and he directly asked if I had taken a mate, but I weighed the risks against the benefits and decided it would be illogical to tell him."_

" _I don't want people thinking I'm sleeping with you just to get a better assignment_ ," she thought furiously.

" _We have not engaged in sexual intercourse,_ " he replied. Most human euphemisms escaped him, but he was quite familiar with the phrase "sleeping together" after eight years in Starfleet.

"I  _know_  that," she snapped aloud.

They both opened their eyes and stared at each other. Spock began to retract his hands from her face but she held them in place and added, " _He's going to be my captain too and I want him to respect me for the work I can do_."

" _I understand and respect your position_ ," he replied. " _I do not intend to tell anyone without your consent. Our relationship will remain secret for as long as you wish – indefinitely, if you prefer_."

"Forever is a long time," she scoffed, before mentally adding, " _And besides, my mother already knows I'm in a romantic relationship; it's only a matter of time before she manages to meet you_."

" _You have still not told her the entire truth?_ "

" _She'll figure it out eventually_ ," Nyota explained.

A period of silence fell between them, but Spock utilized the time to probe her emotions more fully. She was still nervous about something.

She seemed to sense what he was going to ask, because she said, " _Speaking of figuring things out, Lieutenant Akamatsu knows about us."_

" _Yes, I believe she does_."

" _And that doesn't bother you?_ "

" _It is cause for concern_ ," he admitted.

" _Well, as you know, she was the observer-controller for the Mustang. She approached me and told me she wanted an assignment to Enterprise. When I told her I couldn't help her, she basically said she knew we were dating and implied that if you didn't find a way to get her the assignment, she'd report us_."

This information changed nothing, as she'd already attempted to blackmail him, but it did reveal another facet of Lieutenant Akamatsu's character he'd never witnessed before. She was more calculating than he'd supposed. She couldn't pressure Spock into giving her what she wanted so she chose to target Nyota, a cadet whom she likely believed would be more easily manipulated.

" _I shall resolve the matter_ ," he replied.

" _What are you going to do? Get her an assignment on Enterprise_?"

" _I have no intention of submitting to her demands_."

Lieutenant Akamatsu was a highly competent computer scientist and after their brief discussion in the bistro two months earlier, Spock  _had_  intended to mention her name to Captain Pike at the earliest opportunity. Yet her recent conduct had demonstrated a number of moral failings and he had no interest in serving with a person who would damage the careers of others for her own personal gain.

" _Then what are you going to do_?" Nyota repeated.

" _Nyota, please allow me to resolve the situation without involving you_."

She chewed on her lip but nodded. " _I wish I could be as calm as you_."

" _There is no logic in worry_."

" _Do you think we're being stupid for continuing to do this after that fraternization policy came out?_ " she asked suddenly.

" _I do not believe we have a diminished intellectual capacity, if that is what you refer to_ ," Spock replied.

"You know what I mean," she sighed out loud. "Do you think it's a bad idea?"

"It is reckless," he choked, letting go of her face and breaking their mind meld. "But I am comfortable with my decision."

"I don't want to stop seeing you either," she confessed.

They gazed at each other for a while. Her dark eyes were bright and at such close proximity, he could smell the familiar aroma of coconut despite his malfunctioning olfactory senses. She leaned forward and lightly kissed him on the lips and even through the misery of the Tarkalean flu, he found this simple gesture of affection to be arousing.

He pulled away. She leaned forward on her fists and surveyed his face before sitting back on her haunches and glancing around the room. "Is that your lyre?"

She was looking at the ka'athyra mounted on the wall by the window. He had not played it in many years – not since relocating to Earth eight years earlier. "Yes."

"In Vegas you said you hadn't played in a long time because you hadn't found a reason to."

"Do you want me to-" He coughed. "Play?"

Her face scrunched into a warm smile. "You're sick. I'm not going to make you play a song for me."

"I offered," he reminded her, his gravelly voice barely rising above a whisper.

She thought to herself and smiled. "Only if you want."

He nodded and glanced back at the wall, and she correctly understood his cue to collect it. As she pulled it from the pegs, she exclaimed, "It's a lot lighter than I thought it would be. It hardly weighs anything."

"It is acoustic," he explained, swallowing hard to clear his sore throat.

She handed him the instrument and he began the process of refining its tuning by ear by tweaking the pegs along the angular neck. It took ten minutes to achieve a precise result and he checked his work by playing through a series of scales. It had been years since his fingers had performed this action, but they had an impeccable memory.

"What do you wish to hear?" he asked.

"I don't know any Vulcan songs," she shrugged. "Play me something you like."

Spock adjusted the pillows behind his back to hold the instrument correctly and launched into a slow rendition of "The Heart of the Forge." He watched Nyota as he played, observing her eyes move with his fingers as he plucked the strings and the corners of her mouth involuntarily twist into periodic smiles. When the song was complete, she clapped several times and declared, "That was  _really_  good."

"It is not a difficult song," he coughed, reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand to soothe this throat.

"It's not about difficulty," she argued. "There was something there, something special. It was almost…  _emotional_. It was like seeing a part of you I've never gotten to see before."

His mother had often said similar things when he'd spent his evenings practicing with the instrument. He thought of the Terran songs he'd learned to play for Amanda and wondered if Nyota would recognize any them. He lifted the instrument onto his shoulder again and started a new melody.

After several notes, her eyes began to glow, and after several more notes, she started to sing. Spock was fascinated because he'd never known lyrics had been written for this particular song.

 _"…And I have loved you oh so long_  
Delighting in your company  
Greensleeves was all my joy  
Greensleeves was my delight  
Greensleeves was my heart of gold  
And who but my lady greensleeves."

Her voice was rich and pure and her pitch was perfect. When she stopped singing, he stopped playing and looked at her expectantly.

"I don't know the rest of the words," she admitted. "I don't know if there  _are_  more words."

"The song continues for two more stanzas," he replied hoarsely.

She shrugged. "With or without lyrics, you play beautifully."

"And you have a lovely voice," he replied.

"And yours sounds pretty awful right now," she laughed. "You're not supposed to be talking, remember?"

"What is the meaning of greensleeves?" he asked, changing the subject. He had always wondered over the curious title.

She looked away, made a face, and shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I think it's an English song. My secondary school choir sang it as part of a medley for a Federation Day concert. What I just sang for you was all I ever learned."

She pulled her personal PADD from her bag on the floor and said, "Research the meaning of  _greensleeves_."

She returned to the bed and snuggled up against him as she read, "The true meaning of the term "greensleeves" is as disputed as the origin of the ballad. One popular myth supposes that the term is an allusion to wearing the 'green gown,' which is-"

Nyota hesitated and smiled. "Um, which is a euphemism for becoming pregnant or for sexual acts performed while lying down on grass. Yeah, so anyway, you play really well."

He was suddenly acutely aware of the warmth of her body next to his as she set the PADD down next to her. He gently leaned over and set the ka'athyra on the floor and when he sat back against the headrest, she curled her body more tightly into him. He ran his fingertips along the knuckles of her hands and she returned the gesture until they both eventually fell asleep.

When Spock awoke several hours later to find Nyota's head nestled against his chest, he watched her quietly for several minutes, realizing she was everything he wanted in a mate.

Yes, she was the companion he wanted for the rest of his life.


	24. Confessions

Nyota rubbed her forehead, enjoying the sensation of pressure on her face. She was beginning to think she was hearing things.

"Computer, end scan."

She tilted back in the padded chair, thinking the seat was so comfortable she could easily fall asleep. She shook her head and stood up. She couldn't sleep – she had work to do.

She'd practically taken up residence in the long-range sensor lab during these last two weeks. She was so close to finishing her thesis, she just needed more reliable long-range data. Unfortunately, getting what she needed was akin to searching for a needle in a field of haystacks.

Of course, she didn't actually _need_ it. Lieutenant Bautista had reminded her on numerous occasions that she was working on a senior thesis, not a graduate dissertation, and given the time constraints, no one would think less of her if she submitted only short and mid-range data. No, she didn't need it, but she _wanted_ it.

She was often accused of being a perfectionist, but she preferred to take it as a compliment. No one was ever perfect, but she didn't see why she couldn't at least _try_. Of course, her semi-obsessive search for real data on long-range scans was starting to impact the rest of her life.

Spock had been quarantined in his quarters for the past two weeks and she hadn't gotten to see him since the night she'd come back from the training mission. They'd sent sporadic messages, but the situation and timing had never been right for another meet up. She'd had a shift as a staff duty runner one weekend, he was busy trying to catch up on some of the work he'd missed during the training mission and as a result of his convalescence, and now Lieutenant Bautista was pressuring her to submit her thesis sooner rather than later.

She knew this brief separation was for the best, as it would give them time to refocus on professional and educational matters they'd both been neglecting, but she still had trouble getting him out of her head. Their depressingly chaste sleepovers always seemed to sneak to the forefront of her mind; she couldn't shake her desire for more.

Spock was such an enigma. She would never classify herself as shy, but when it came to the more intimate matters of their relationship, their early missteps had shaken her confidence. She'd been looking forward to finding a way to convince him to take things to the next level after their training mission, but then he'd come down with Tarkalean flu. She hadn't minded looking after him, and nursing someone who was sick was a form of intimacy in itself, but it had taken some effort to conceal her disappointment that it meant they had to spend the weekend clothed.

Sex would have been a nice distraction. She felt restless. She felt anxious. Between Akamatsu's threats, her impending graduation, her difficult coursework, and the frustration of a new relationship that had to remain secret, she was tiptoeing the edge of a nervous breakdown. Deep down, she knew her hunt for additional long-range data probably had more to do with keeping her mind occupied than a desire to write the best senior thesis in the history of Starfleet Academy.

She flopped back down in the chair but glanced at the clock at the corner of the screen and sighed. It was 0306 hours, her Interstellar Communication Theory Seminar started in less than six hours, and she hadn't even done the assigned readings. It was well past time to pack it in and call it a night.

"Just one more quick sweep," she said, repositioning her earpiece and mildly wondering if it was normal to talk to oneself in the wee hours of the morning.

She closed her eyes and got lost in the thrum of subspace, listening to blips and crackles and general noise. She'd heard some odd things in these last months, listening to the vastness of the quadrant.

Signals never stopped. Once broadcast, they continued on forever through empty space and subspace, propagated in all directions until they hit something else – a planet, and asteroid, a nebula – and changed direction. Of course the intensity decreased with distance from the source, which made interpreting those signals almost as much an art form as it was a science. Determining things like the origin of a signal or the intensity of the initial broadcast were tasks routinely handled by computers with a decent degree of accuracy, but computers were only as good as the data they had. Well-trained communications specialists could occasionally outperform computers in the right situations.

Her signal started to fade and she sat upright in her chair, frantically searching the coordinates of her scan. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. This looked like the break she'd been hoping for. Had she finally detected an aberration in a harmonic frequency at the edge of the quadrant?

Then a sharp burst of interference rocked her earpiece and she shrieked, pulling the device out of her ear and clutching her head.

"What the hell?" she hissed, unable to shake the ringing in her right ear.

Her left ear could still hear well enough to realize she was receiving a notification of a video transmission on her PADD. She wanted to pick the device up and hurl it at the wall. How could she have been so stupid to leave it on, knowing that intraplanetary transmissions could easily interfere with long-range subspace scans? Then again, she hadn't thought anyone would call her at the crack of dawn either.

She fumbled through her bag, found her PADD, and hit the cancel button without looking at it and shoved the earpiece in her left ear. Her fingers swept over the glass computer screen and she strained to find the signal once again, but it was gone. She'd lost it.

She almost wanted to cry. Months of searching with no success, and the moment she finally found something solid, it had been interrupted by the worst timed call of her life. She hung her head in her hands and her PADD began another series of chirps.

Irritation so profound it bordered on rage coursed through her. Who in their right mind would call her at this hour?

She pulled the earpiece from her ear and tossed it on the desk with an audible clink and extracted her PADD from her bag. It was her mother. She would be worried if she weren't so annoyed.

She slid her finger across the accept function and said, " _What_ , mama?"

"Is that any way to talk to your mother?" M'Umbha asked.

"I was kind of in the middle of something important," Nyota groaned, resting her PADD against the computer terminal to be able to see the screen more clearly.

"Surely you can spare a few minutes?"

"Mama, you realize it's 0315 here?" Nyota snapped.

"Oh, I always forget to check the time," her mother sighed. "It's past noon where we are. But you look like you're awake."

"I _am_ , but I'm working on an important project."

"At 0315?"

"I'm writing a thesis on a comprehensive method to distinguish patterns within harmonic frequencies across both space and subspace and the only time I can schedule the sensor labs to myself is on nights and weekends."

"You look tired, Nyota."

"I _am_ tired, mama."

Nyota studied her mother's face on the video, thinking M'Umbha Uhura looked like she hadn't slept in weeks either. She started to feel a pang of guilt. When was the last time she'd called home?

"So is there any word yet on where they'll be sending you when you graduate?" her mother asked.

Nyota sighed, realizing she hadn't actually spoken to her mother since she'd gotten the _Enterprise_ assignment. "I'm going to be on the Federation's flagship. It's called _Enterprise_. I got an assignment as a junior communications officer."

"That sounds impressive," he mother mused.

"It _is_ ," she admitted, feeling a small wave of pride. "It was really competitive."

"So you won't be staying on Earth then?"

Nyota bit her lip. "Mama, I didn't join Starfleet to work in a mail room on Earth."

Her mother's expression hardened. This had always been a tense subject between them, probably due to her father's disappearance more than a decade ago. M'Umbha Uhura was a fiercely protective woman who'd had some difficulties accepting her children were growing up and becoming less dependent on her, and Nyota sometimes felt guilty for choosing a profession that would only make her worry more.

"Well, I don't want to take up all your time," her mother replied. "I should probably let you go and get some rest. Though I do wish you'd come home for a visit before you run off to the other side of the galaxy."

"Of course I will," Nyota sighed, wondering how much thicker her mother could lay down the guilt trip.

"And maybe you can bring that secret boyfriend of yours who took you to Florida on your birthday."

Her cheeks grew hot at her mother's insistent suggestion. She had no idea how her mother would react to Spock. A lot of people still tended to raise their eyebrows at interspecies relationships, but she had no idea how her mother felt about them. She _did_ know how her mother felt about her children though, and M'Umbha Uhura had impossibly high standards when it came to potential partners for her brood.

She remembered once during her early teen years she had invited her friend Paul over to study and her mother had questioned him mercilessly about his intentions toward Nyota. Despite her insistence they were just friends, her mother had never really believed her. It had been so humiliating that Nyota never brought any boys to the house again.

That was the thing about her mother. M'Umbha Uhura didn't have casual opinions: she only had strong ones or no opinion at all. Spock was half Vulcan and had been her professor and though she wasn't _certain_ , she felt like her mother would react very strongly to at least _one_ of those facts, if not both.

"What, nothing to say?" her mother asked.

"No, not really," Nyota responded.

"You don't think I'll like him."

"I don't know what to think," Nyota scowled. "Anyway, he stays very busy."

"He doesn't make time for you?" her mother frowned. "He doesn't want to know your family?"

"Actually, mama, he's _really_ interested in meeting you. I'm just not as enthusiastic about letting you meet _him_."

"Why ever not?"

"You know why," Nyota barked. "Name one person any of us ever brought home that you didn't scare away on the first visit."

"Anyone who would be frightened of my love for my children doesn't deserve my children."

Nyota rolled her eyes. "I thought you said you would let me go so I can get some sleep?"

"I did. But one more thing – it's the reason I called – Malcolm will be coming to San Francisco next weekend to tour Starfleet Academy."

Nyota gritted her teeth. Her younger brother would be graduating from secondary school in May and had expressed interest in following in Nyota's footsteps in recent months. He had a real talent for mathematics and computer science and Starfleet Academy had one of the best computer science programs in the entire Federation.

"I can't wait to see him," Nyota said, trying to keep her tone pleasant and unassuming, even though she already knew what was coming next.

"You will try to give him the _honest_ Starfleet experience, won't you?"

"I'm not going to lie to him – it's stressful and a lot of hard work. But I know Malcolm: he can handle it."

"You know he's already been accepted to a dozen universities, including the College of-"

"It's his decision to make, mama," she interrupted. "I'm not going to try to sway him either way, but he'll be eighteen in a couple of weeks. He's not your little boy anymore."

Her mother opened her mouth to fire back a response but shut it gently. She gazed at her mother's face on the PADD's screen, steeling herself to argue some more, but her mother simply said, "I love you, Nyota. I want what's best for you, and for Malcom, and for Uaekundu. I'm proud of the people you're becoming, but it isn't easy to let you go."

Her mother had finally found the right combination of words to dissolve her frustration into empathy. No matter what, she would always admire this woman; it couldn't have been easy losing her husband and raising three children all by herself.

"I love you, mama," she finally said. "I'll call Malcolm tomorrow and find out what his plans are. And I promise, I will visit you before I leave."

She ended the transmission and leaned back in the chair. She hadn't been as diligent about calling home during the past few months and it was finally hitting her just how much she was going to miss her family. She'd taken for granted her ability to go home regularly on pass, but soon that wouldn't be an option.

Before she could fall asleep, she sprung to her feet and collected her things. She was just about to power down the scanners, radio telescopes, and arrays when she heard a loud crash outside the room. She slung her bag over her shoulder and went to investigate.

" _Hello_?" she murmured as she wandered into the hall. No response.

She stopped and trained her ears to the silence and finally heard muffled conversation coming from one of the computer labs further down the hall. She inched forward and was soon able to identify the speakers. _Kirk and Gaila_. She couldn't quite make out their words, but their frantic tone of voice suggested they were arguing.

What were they even _doing_ in there? Gaila worked a couple of evening shifts each week as a senior lab assistant in the secure lab to earn work study credits toward graduation, but there was no reason for her to be here at this time of day.

She figured it was a stupid question. Knowing Gaila's appetites and Kirk's recklessness, there was really only one reasonable explanation for why they would be sneaking around in the computer lab in the middle of the night. Moreover, she'd begged Gaila to stop bringing guys back to the room and Gaila had eventually agreed to try to be more respectful of their shared space. She'd never asked Gaila where she took her parade of boyfriends and lovers and Gaila had never told her.

But the secure computer lab? That seemed desperate and dangerous, even for Kirk and Gaila. She knew she should turn around and keep walking, but curiosity got the better of her. She hated herself for spying on her friend, but she pressed her ear up to the doorjamb anyway.

"We could have broken it," Gaila whined.

"It's _fine_ ," Kirk laughed. "Besides, you weren't complaining when I had you bent over it."

"It was _my_ access card that got us in here. If this stuff gets broken, they'll blame me."

"Gaila, the computer is _fine_. See?"

"Why do you even like coming to the labs? Can't we just go back to my room? My roommate is never there anymore. It's not a big deal."

"Uhura hates me," Kirk replied. "Besides, a little danger is exciting."

"Maybe to _you_. If I lose this work study, I won't graduate."

" _Relax_. I tell you what – why don't we go up to one of the simulator observation decks?"

"What is your obsession with that _stupid_ _Kobayashi Maru_ simulator?" Gaila seethed.

"I dunno, I kind of like the idea of being able to get off while looking down on the captain's chair."

Nyota had to stifle a laugh. Kirk was apparently not only arrogant, but had some seriously weird fetishes.

"The simulator decks are off-limits," Gaila snapped.

" _You've_ been up there."

"Because I was given temporary access to work on one of the programs," she retorted. "I don't know if my badge even works on the observation decks anymore."

"Only one way to find out," Kirk replied.

" _No_ ," Gaila insisted. "And you still haven't given me a good explanation for why you wanted me to get the logs from your last attempt. Those logs are restricted, you know. I could get expelled just for pulling them off the mainframe, let alone giving them to another student."

"I told you," Kirk replied. "I just wanted to review them and see what I did wrong."

"Then why not watch the video recordings? Why do you need the encoded logs from the Academy's mainframe?"

She heard Kirk sigh. "Maybe we should get dressed and get out of here. It's late and I have an exam first thing in the morning."

" _Jim_ , don't be that way."

Nyota backed away from the wall as noiselessly as she could manage. She needed to get out of there before they came through the door, but a small part of her wanted to confront them. For all her amazing intuition about other people, Gaila was completely blind when it came to James Kirk. She had no idea what they were talking about, but it sounded like Kirk was up to something.

She hesitated before deciding to walk away. _For now_. Gaila was her friend and she wanted nothing but the best for her, but she'd tried for months to get her to listen to reason about Kirk. She'd finally just resigned herself to the future duty of picking up the pieces of Gaila's broken heart if and when she realized Kirk was a dirtbag, but it seemed like he was involving Gaila in something that could get her expelled from the Academy.

She heard the computer lab door slide open behind her and just managed to whirl into the entry to the lavatory before they saw her. She held her breath and leaned against the tile wall, listening as one set of footsteps grew louder and the other grew fainter. They had split up and were walking in opposite directions. One of them was heading straight toward her and she mentally crossed her fingers and prayed it was Gaila.

Only half the overhead lights were on and Nyota was mostly hidden in the shadows, so she held her breath and waited for the person to pass. Only they didn't. The clicking of the shoes on the tile floor of the hallway continued to grow louder and then turned into the lavatory. It was Kirk.

They both jumped at the sight of the other and asked in unison, "What are you doing here?"

"I've been working late nights in the long range sensor lab," Nyota said, the tone of her voice low and challenging. It was the truth. She had nothing to hide.

"Oh," Kirk said with a shrug, breezing past her and wandering into the lavatory.

She scoffed and followed him inside. "What are _you_ doing here?"

He waved his hands toward the latrine stalls and said, "I think it's pretty obvious. Why? Do you want to watch?"

She made a face as he entered the first stall and closed the door. "You're disgusting."

"Says the woman who followed me into the bathroom." She heard the sound of splashing and closed her eyes, trying to get the image of him urinating out of her mind.

"What do you have Gaila involved in?" she asked.

"Nothing. She's my girlfriend."

" _One of your girlfriends_ ," she thought bitterly, before saying, "I know you're not exactly above cheating."

"Fine, you think I cheated on the _Kobayashi Maru_. You can't prove it."

Nyota's mouth fell open. Her comment about cheating had been in reference to his faithfulness to Gaila, not about his academic honesty. It shouldn't have surprised her to think that he would cheat on a performance evaluation, but she would have thought the simulators were so well secured that cheating would have been all but impossible.

She crossed her arms and decided to play it casual. "How'd you do it?"

She heard the gentle hum of the waste reclaimator and moments later, the stall door opened. She tried to stare him down but he brushed past her toward the hand sanitizing station.

"How'd you do it?" she repeated.

"Do what?"

"Cheat on the _Kobayashi Maru_."

"Who says I cheated?"

"You just implied that you did," Nyota scoffed. "And I was there for your last attempt. Something was seriously wrong with the simulator. What did you do to it?"

"Nothing."

" _Liar_."

"Like I said, you can't prove anything."

"I'll report you," she stammered.

"And say what? You followed me into the bathroom at three in the morning and got a cryptic confession out of me? You have no actual proof, and even if you did, you might want to reconsider. It might not end well for Gaila."

Her breath caught in her throat and he shrugged and strolled out of the bathroom. She was right on his heels. "If you got her involved with something that could get her expelled, I promise you, I will make it a personal mission to destroy you."

"Good luck," he laughed. "And relax; no one's getting expelled."

They strode out of the building together. Nyota was so angry she was shaking. "Why do you have such a difficult time following rules?"

"Rules are for people who don't know how to think outside the box."

"Do you have any other setting besides disgustingly arrogant?" she retorted. "Or are you just stuck in that mode?"

"It's not arrogance if you have the skill to back it up." He turned down the sidewalk toward a dormitory on the West quad. She stormed after him.

"So you just walk away?" she said, nearly shouting at him. "You can't stop for just one second and own up to a single thing you've done?"

"I live here," he replied, pivoting on the ball of his foot to face her and pointing over his shoulder at the dormitory behind him. "I mean, you're welcome to join me for the night if you like. My roommate snores and my bed is pretty small, but I certainly wouldn't mind your company."

The anger and frustration within her threatened to boil over. She took a deep breath and simply said, "You don't deserve this."

"Don't deserve _what_?"

" _Any_ of it. Gaila. Starfleet. None of it."

She whipped around and started to walk away, but he called after her, "No one deserves anything. No one owes me anything. You may not believe this, but I've worked for everything I have."

She stopped and turned to look at him. "But you act like it's a joke to you. Like you're the only one who really gets it."

He opened his mouth to protest but shook his head instead. "Goodnight, Uhura."

She didn't acknowledge his farewell. It took her ten minutes to walk back to her dorm and by the time she got there, she had mostly calmed down, but she suspected part of that was because she was just too tired to stay angry for long. It was nearly 0400 hours and she remembered she still had some readings to do for her morning seminar.

When she trudged through the door of her room, she found Gaila sound asleep. Nyota tossed her PADD on her desk and turned on her computer. She couldn't keep pulling these all-nighters. She read the first paragraph of the assigned article five times, finding her brain was too disengaged to actually process the information.

" _Hmmm, Jim…_ "

Nyota turned in her chair to stare at Gaila who was smiling in her sleep. " _Yeah, I love you too_."

Her heart sank and she closed her eyes. Gaila had had a lot of lovers, but she'd never told a guy she _loved_ him. Nyota wasn't sure if it was funny or sweet or sad. It was all three, really. How could Gaila not see Kirk for who he really was?

She awoke what felt like minutes later to light streaming in through the window and her PADD chiming to announce a new message. She shuddered and realized it was 0830 and her seminar started in half an hour. Gaila was snoring behind her.

"Gaila, wake up! We're late."

Gaila bolted upright and groaned. They shuffled around each other racing to get ready to face the world on a Friday morning. Gaila tried making conversation in the bathroom but Nyota wasn't really sure what to say, and was grateful the act of brushing her teeth was a pretty decent excuse to avoid talking.

She jogged to her class and once she realized she was going to make it with a few minutes to spare, she pulled out her PADD and tried to read what she could of the reading and prayed no one would notice if she sat at the back and didn't contribute much to the discussion that morning. Of course people would notice. She led all the discussions.

She started to try and find the article on the Academy's database but saw the message notification icon at the bottom corner of her screen. It was from Spock. She decided she didn't care if she wasted thirty seconds reading his message because she hadn't spoke to him in days. It read:

_The doctors have cleared me to return to duty. Are you available to join me for end meal in my quarters this evening?_

She grinned from ear to ear and was about to reply with a solid yes when she heard someone say, "Cadet Uhura?"

She glanced to her left and saw Lieutenant Bautista standing a few meters away with her arms crossed. Nyota dropped her PADD to her side, stood at attention and replied, "Yes, ma'am?"

"I'd like to speak with you privately."

"My class is about to start," she explained, gesturing toward the door.

"This will only take a minute," Bautista replied grimly.

Nyota swallowed hard and nodded and followed her into an empty adjacent classroom. Agatha Bautista was her advisor and was one of the friendliest people she knew. She'd never seen her look so angry, and it had Nyota rattled.

Once the door was safely shut behind them, Bautista asked, "Care to tell me what happened in the lab last night?"

Nyota blinked. "What do you mean?"

"First of all, you left the long-range scanner lab unlocked. But worse than that, you left all of the equipment on and now the receiver on one of the long-range arrays is fried and the lab's file server crashed trying to compile and analyze six straight hours of an uninterrupted data stream."

Nyota felt the blood drain from her face. She'd never made a mistake of this magnitude; she had only her noisiness to blame. She'd been distracted by the loud crash in the computer lab and walked out of the sensor lab without thinking. Then she'd followed Kirk back to his dorm to yell at him.

"Care to explain yourself?" Bautista asked.

"I- I'm so sorry," Nyota breathed.

I would hope so. It wasn't easy getting the department chair to grant you overnight access to the lab, but I went to bat for you. I'm _so_ disappointed."

Her advisor's words were like a slap to the face. "I don't have an explanation ma'am."

"How about an excuse? In the absence of an explanation, I'd listen to a valid excuse."

"I- I've been so tired," Nyota stammered. "I've been staying up late trying to collect all this data and I obviously walked out without thinking about it."

Bautista sighed and uncrossed her arms. "Your work has been slipping these last few months. I don't know what's going on with you, but you need to get your mind right. You're about to graduate and you worked so hard to get an assignment on _Enterprise_. I'll let you in on a secret – I applied for a posting on _Enterprise_ too and got rejected. But I was _so_ proud to have one of my students achieve something even I couldn't get. But if this is the kind of performance they can expect-"

"It isn't ma'am," Nyota interrupted. "I will do whatever it takes to make this right."

Bautista clenched her jaw. "I should be writing up a formal reprimand, but I'm willing to give you the chance to fix it. No one is scheduled to use the long-range sensors until Monday. You have until Sunday morning to get that receiver fixed and the computers operational. Do you understand?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I want you to know I'm sticking my neck out for you. If I can't verify the lab is operational by Sunday afternoon, I'm going to have to submit report and I'll have no choice but to write a formal reprimand."

"I understand, ma'am," Nyota said. "I'll get it fixed. I promise"

"Good," Bautista frowned. "And Cadet Uhura, this isn't personal."

"I know, ma'am. I was negligent and I'm grateful you're giving me an opportunity to fix it."

"Ok then. Get out of here before you're late for class."

"Yes ma'am."

The rest of her day passed by in a blur. She knew that everyone made mistakes, but it didn't stop her from beating herself up about it. Each of her professors and classmates seemed to notice her distraction and several people commented on it, which only made things worse.

Around lunchtime she got another message from Spock asking about dinner and she was forced to reply that she would be busy working in the long-range sensor lab that evening. She had no idea how long it would take her to repair the receiver or the computer, and she was terrified she wouldn't have it taken care of by Sunday afternoon.

At 1700 hours she made her way to the lab and took stock of the damage. She figured she could have the receiver repaired in a few hours, but the computer was a far more complicated problem. She was good with computers and pretty decent with programming, but she lacked Gaila or Spock's expertise. Of course, Lieutenant Bautista didn't say Nyota had to fix it all by herself.

Surely it would be better to recruit help if she needed it rather than make things worse? She could never ask Spock – she'd been too ashamed to admit the whole truth in her earlier message to him – but maybe Gaila would be willing to lend a hand. She'd bailed Gaila out of worse things over the past few years, and she still owed her for that awful date with Brondon.

She took a deep breath and nodded to herself. This was going to be ok. She sent Gaila a message asking if she could come by the lab and set herself to working on the receiver. She had it disassembled in less than twenty minutes and several troubleshooting exercises and trips to the supply room later, she had a good idea of the necessary repairs she would need to make.

She flopped down on the floor and tried to make herself comfortable. She checked her PADD – no response from Gaila yet, but that was hardly surprising for a Friday night. She had until Sunday to get this straightened out, and she was certain Gaila would at least get back to her by tomorrow afternoon.

She stretched her arms over her head and felt the pull of her uniform jacket. Part of her wished she had changed out of her red cadet's uniform, but she had been so anxious to get started that she had come straight to the lab. She was alone and the duty day was finished, so she pulled off her red jacket and flung it over the back of the chair behind her. She rolled her head around on her shoulders, sighed, and then got to work. She tinkered for about half an hour before she heard the door to the lab slide open.

"Good evening, Nyota."


	25. Prelude to Resolution

Nyota had told him she would be in the long-range sensor lab that night, but he'd received a late afternoon notification from the Communications Department that the long-range arrays were offline for the weekend. He hadn't suspected she had lied to him, but he had still wondered what function she would serve in a laboratory that was not operational.

His primary purpose for visiting the Tarkington building on a Friday evening actually had nothing to do with Nyota. Much had happened while he'd been quarantined with Tarkalean flu. The experience had demonstrated just how little his presence was actually required for his position. He'd caught up on more than 1,800 messages, written recommendations and exams, graded assignments, recorded lectures, and teleconferenced with students in place of meeting them face-to-face for office hours, all from the confines of his quarters.

He'd kept abreast of updates to the _Enterprise_ – it had finished its last phase of trials and had been certified for commissioning a full 38 days ahead of schedule. Captain Pike was coordinating with Starfleet and other Federation officials to plan an official commissioning ceremony for the following month, but less than twenty percent of the assigned crew was available to report to the ship early. Not only had the cadets not graduated yet, but much of the fleet had been called away to the Laurentian system the prior month to quell disturbances over a territorial dispute, and that included most of the _Enterprise_ 's future senior officers.

Aside from helping Pike coordinate the upcoming commissioning ceremony, Lieutenant Nowak and Cadet Maloney had managed to restore the _Kobayashi Maru_ simulator and had even added additional file protection and locking subroutines. Spock had been interested in testing the results, but he'd also been interested in making a few modifications.

The Information Security Office had thanked him for bringing the suspected breach to their attention and explained they would resolve the file transfer utility flaw with the tertiary mainframe during the summer's regularly scheduled updates. The simulator was fixed, but the flaw that had allowed it to be exploited remained.

Meanwhile, Cadet Kirk had not ceased in his quest to secure a third attempt at the scenario. His dogged interest in the simulator was certainly not proof he'd tampered with it, but when added to the other circumstantial evidence, he was the only logical culprit.

So Spock had gone to the _Kobayashi Maru_ observation deck and inserted a small monitoring subroutine within the graphics module in the event the hacker managed to find a workaround for Maloney and Nowak's patches. Then he'd sent Kirk a message explaining the simulator had been repaired and to contact the training office to schedule a third attempt at the scenario.

He had been on his way out of the building when he'd just happened to pass by the long-range sensor lab. He knew Nyota was in there just by the characteristic scent of spearmint gum and coconut lotion lingering in the hallway, and when he paused by the open door of the lab, he saw her kneeling on the floor, surrounded by a maze of disassembled communications components and tools. Her knee length skirt was hiked up well past the middle of her thighs and her black undershirt clung to her shapely body, forcing him to suppress not only an instinctive emotion, but a physical response as well.

Due to conflicting schedules, duties, prior commitments, and his unfortunate quarantine, he hadn't seen her since she'd stayed the night with him two weeks ago. He'd spent much of his confinement reflecting upon their relationship, spending many hours in meditation. Time and consideration had only solidified his realization that he wanted her for a mate.

Were she Vulcan, he wouldn't have hesitated to declare koon-ut-so'lik and inform her of his desire to become her husband. But Nyota wasn't Vulcan.

While it seemed logical to make his ultimate intentions known, human interpersonal relationships of any variety were rarely logical. He thought of Gaila's checklist and his futile attempts to understand human courtship rituals – none of her points were relevant to his current situation, as they only enumerated criteria for determining whether two individuals were on a date or dating. They _were_ dating, that was no longer in question, but what set of criteria did humans use for judging whether or not a person was worthy of becoming a lifelong companion? He did not know.

She sighed and brushed her hair behind her left ear, revealing more of the left half of her face. He watched her work for nearly a minute, wishing to speak with her but unwilling to disturb her while she was locked in concentration on the fine optical fibers of the quantum coupler in her hands. He waited until she uttered another sigh, set the part down on the floor, and stretched.

"Good evening, Nyota."

He hadn't meant to startle her, but a look of surprise flashed across her face as she twisted around at the waist to see him. "What are you doing here?"

"I had come to work on the simulator decks," he explained, stepping through the threshold into the laboratory. "But my task is complete. May I inquire what you are doing in the laboratory at this late hour?"

Her jaw tightened and her eyes shifted between his face and the door behind him. He stepped completely through the threshold and engaged the door release. They were alone and the building was nearly deserted, and now with the door closed, it seemed illogical to continue the charade of neutrality toward her.

"I'm just working on repairing a long range receiver," she mumbled.

Spock considered her confession and their agreement to keep their personal and professional lives separate. He was conflicted. Students were only permitted to make repairs to Academy equipment under the supervision of maintenance personnel or faculty members. He knew repairing a communications receiver was well within her capabilities, but her mood was rapidly shifting into discomfort. Was she knowingly violating Academy regulations?

"Have you contacted maintenance?"

"Um, not exactly. Not yet anyway. That's what I was hoping to avoid."

"Reporting broken or malfunctioning equipment to maintenance before attempting repairs is the proper protocol," he reminded her.

"I know." She reached for a multipurpose tool and twirled the tip between her thumb and index finger.

He was her partner, but he also a Starfleet officer and had a duty to maintain the school's equipment and protect it from damage, theft, and vandalism. Yet it was difficult to believe she would intentionally do any of those things. He wrestled briefly with the situation until she rose to her feet, crossed her arms, and jumped into a garbled explanation.

"I screwed up, ok? Last night I left the lab unlocked and the equipment on and now everything's broken and Lieutenant Bautista gave me until Sunday to get it fixed and the receiver is turning out to be way worse than I initially imagined and I don't even know where to begin with fixing the server and this turned into a giant mess and if I don't get it straightened out I'm going to get a formal reprimand in my file and what if I don't graduate-" She took several deep breaths and started pacing.

"Perhaps you could calm yourself and explain more coherently," he suggested.

She ran her hands through her hair and inhaled slowly. "So last night I left the equipment on and the dedicated wide-band array receiver went out. My best guess is it picked up a powerful, sustained subspace broadcast nearby, probably something in orbit, and I must have disengaged the subspace monitor when my mom called, which would have automatically shut it off, because the front-end quantum circuits are fried."

"Why would you leave the laboratory unsecured and the equipment in operation?"

She closed her eyes and chewed her lip. "It was late, I was tired, and I wasn't thinking."

"I see."

"Ugh, don't say that," she groaned.

"What would you have me say?"

"I don't know. Not _that_. Anything but, 'I see.' This is the worst mistake I've made in a long time and I didn't want you to know because… I know we said our personal lives are separate from our professional lives, but the way you're looking at me right now, you look a lot less like my boyfriend Spock and a lot more like Commander Spock."

"May I speak plainly?" he asked.

"Have you ever _not_ spoken plainly?" she sighed.

"Occasionally I have elected not to speak at all," he explained.

She rolled her eyes, uncrossed her arms, and sat down in the chair by the nearest computer terminal. "Whatever it is, just say it."

"Though I would prefer to distance myself from you professionally due to our personal relationship, it is illogical to believe that distance will always be easily maintained, particularly once we are aboard _Enterprise_. Starfleet's fraternization policy is far more lenient than Starfleet Academy's, but I shall still be your first officer and you will have to comply with my orders, regardless of the nature of our private relationship."

She blinked several times and looked up at the ceiling. "That's not what I thought you were going to say."

"Explain."

"I was ready for the whole 'I'm so disappointed in you' speech just like Lieutenant Bautista gave me. I don't have any issues with taking orders from you because I trust you, but getting reprimanded by you, that's different."

"You _were_ negligent," Spock admitted, noting a grimace flash across her face. "Yet everyone is negligent at times, myself included."

She laughed and stared at the floor.

"I also would like to mention that though I possess a superior rank and will eventually be in your direct chain of command, we shall both be members of the same crew and it is to our mutual benefit to assist one another in correcting mistakes. I am willing to assist you."

"You mean right now?"

"Earlier you mentioned being uncertain how to begin repairing damage to the server."

Her eyes widened and her moth drifted open, but it took approximately fifteen seconds before she replied, "You're offering to help me?"

"I believe that was the only reasonable inference."

She exhaled loudly and rubbed her neck. "You're probably the best computer engineer I know, but I don't want to ask you to fix my mistakes."

"You did not ask. I offered."

"But you don't think it's crossing some kind of line? I'm still a cadet and you're still a professor."

"That has been the case ever since I first made your acquaintance and the initiation of our relationship has not altered that. Were my duty as a Starfleet officer in conflict with assisting you, I would not have made the offer. Yet in this circumstance, assisting you as a member of the faculty and assisting you as my mate are in concert with one another. This server is necessary to the operation of the long-range sensor lab, it has been rendered non-operational, and I am qualified to perform maintenance and services upon it. The fact that it would benefit you is a secondary consideration."

"So you're saying I should let you fix the server as Commander Spock, not as my boyfriend?"

"Precisely. Furthermore, to answer your earlier question, according to Starfleet Academy's policy, we are already crossing a line."

She rose from the chair, folded her arms across her chest, and inched in his direction. "And if I were any other student, you would make the same offer? Because you believe _that_ strongly in making sure every piece of equipment on this campus if working perfectly, regardless of what department it happens to belong to? Because you do know this server belongs to the Communications Department, not the Computer Science Department, right?"

"I am aware. And if you imply I am showing favoritism, it is because I am."

She scoffed. "At least you can readily admit it. Let me ask you this – if I were your student and this were your lab and your server, would you write me a letter of reprimand?"

"Based on my rudimentary understanding of the situation, yes. But none of those conditions apply. I cannot offer punishment, I can merely offer aid."

"Lucky for me I guess," she groaned, stopping in front of him and gazing at the tips of his boots. "I hate this."

"Clarify."

"I hate that I need your help, but there's no way I'm going to be able to fix this on my own before Sunday," she explained, looking up to catch his eye. "I'm not even sure if it _can_ be fixed."

"You have not granted me the opportunity to even identify the problem," he reminded her.

"I had asked Gaila to come take a look at it but she hasn't gotten back to me yet. If you're willing to help, I don't feel like I should refuse, even if I feel like I'm using you."

"What is wrong with using me if I am willing to submit myself to the task?" he asked.

She started to respond but shook her head and eventually said, "Every so often I wonder what I did to deserve you."

Minutes later, Nyota was sprawled out on the floor with the receiver components and Spock was beginning an assessment of the long-range sensor lab's dedicated file server. He scanned the logs and quickly set to work assessing the damaged modules. He was just at the point where he'd decided it would be more practical to rebuild the server than attempt to restore it when Nyota said, "This kind of reminds me of being stuck on the _Dalton_ with you."

He looked over his shoulder to see her on the floor with the receiver's quantum coupler in one hand and a miniscule screwdriver in the other. He thought of fixing the bone knitter with her and the beautiful way her eyes glowed when she was angry. He hadn't realized it at the time, but that had been the first occasion he'd found himself attracted to her.

"Our lives are not in danger," he reminded her, turning back to the computer screen.

"True," she replied. "How does the server look? Do you think you can get it running again?"

"There is more extensive damage than I had anticipated, but I believe I can have it operational within the next six hours."

"Six _hours_?" She stood and looked over his shoulder.

"You had said Lieutenant Bautista gave you until Sunday to correct the damage."

"She _did_ , but I feel bad that I'm taking up your whole night. Also, if it's bad enough it's going to take you six hours, I don't even want to think about how long it would have taken me or Gaila to figure it out." She sat down on the high counter next to the workstation he was sitting at and watched his progress.

"Why did you disengage the subspace monitor?" Spock asked, his eyes scanning through lines of error messages. The subspace monitor was a secondary transceiver that kept track of all subspace signals being received and would regulate the operation of the arrays. A functioning subspace monitor was also a necessary component for protecting the computers against data overload.

"My mom called and the signal began interfering. I'd meant to shut everything down, but obviously I _didn't_. She actually called right when I had found something useful too, but that's not surprising. She's always had a way of interrupting at the worst time. She still wants to meet you, you know."

"As I have already told you, I look forward to meeting her also, though I believe it would be prudent to wait until you have graduated."

"Agreed."

"Will you permit me a personal query?"

"You don't have to ask if you can ask me a personal question, Spock. Just _ask_. The worst thing that can happen is I refuse to answer."

"You once said meeting someone's family is something usually done in a more serious stage of the relationship after an acceptable period of time has passed, but you never defined how long an 'acceptable period' was."

"There's no standard," she shrugged. "Just when it feels right. I don't know if it will ever feel like the right time for you to meet my mother, but I blame _her_ for that more than our relationship. You know, sometimes I feel like we're moving way too fast and other times I feel like it's going painfully slow."

"Explain." He glanced at her, noting her eyes seemed distant.

"Well, I've dated lots of people but none that I just clicked with the way I click with you. Dating you is _easy_ : it doesn't feel like work. We see each other when we can and we have great conversation and you respect me and treat me so well."

Spock considered her confession, thinking that the opposite was actually true. While he enjoyed Nyota's companionship and her remarkable mind, he thought dating her was difficult – it often forced him into situations he felt ill equipped to manage. Humans were highly complex creatures with changeable emotions and Nyota was no different. Being with her was a constant challenge because she was unpredictable, but he could not envision spending his life in the company of another female.

"I believe you would make an exceptional mate," he admitted.

Her features froze, except for her eyes, which widened until he could see the whites all the way around her irises. "What do you mean when you say 'mate?'"

"A wife. It would be illogical to pursue someone romantically if one did not believe they were compatible enough to eventually lead to marriage."

" _Eventually_ ," Nyota replied, uttering the word slowly as signs of relief spread across her face.

The fear and subsequent relief in her expression were puzzling and just one of many examples why he found maintaining a relationship with her to be so complicated. Had he read her facial features incorrectly, or was she subtly implying she did not wish to be his mate? It would be illogical to speculate. He should just ask her directly. But before he could, she asked, "You know how I said sometimes it feels like we're moving too slow?"

"I recall."

"Sometimes I wonder if we're compatible. I mean, we obviously get along, but…"

"You do not believe we are well-matched to forge a bond long-term?" he asked, concentrating on his breathing to suppress budding anxiety.

"No, I mean, yes? _Maybe_?" she stammered. "I think I could see myself with you, but what I'm saying is, I sometimes wonder if we're _sexually_ compatible."

"Mating between our species is certainly possible," he replied. "I myself am the product of such a union."

Her cheeks darkened and she stared at the floor. "I was mostly wondering if we'd _enjoy_ having sex with one another."

"The only way to know for certain to is to engage in sexual intercourse."

"Ugh, I _know_."

"What are you implying?" he asked, sensing he was venturing into dangerous territory by the expression on her face and the tone of her voice.

"I think it's obvious," she groaned.

It _wasn't_. Was she implying she wanted to mate with him, or that she _didn't_ want to mate with him?

The computer beeped and Spock turned his attention back to it. Nyota sighed and returned to tinkering on the quantum coupler. He tried to focus on rebuilding the server but it was difficult because his mind continued to analyze their conversation, along with _every_ conversation they'd ever had about the act of mating. Should he ask her to mate with him, or was that the exact opposite of what he should do? He could not understand why Nyota thought their relationship was so easy.

For twenty minutes neither of them spoke a word to each other, but eventually Nyota slid across the counter to observe his progress and began questions about the server. He answered each in turn and soon Nyota asked if she could help, and they fell into a steady rhythm of questions and explanations. He'd always appreciated her active and curious mind and her willingness to learn.

The hours flew by and the task was completed by 2300 hours. He stood and analyzed the disassembled communications equipment on the counter and floor.

"Perhaps you should finish repairs to the receiver so we can test the arrays and server."

"Yeah, I guess I should have been working on this while you worked on the server, but I like knowing how to do things for myself. I miss this."

"Clarify."

"I forgot how good of a teacher you are," she replied, giving him a wide smile.

"You were an exceptional student."

She leaned forward, tilted her chin upward, and kissed him gently on the mouth. The same formidable impulse he'd experienced so many times during their more intimate encounters resurfaced, but he allowed it to linger briefly before attempting to quell it, but by then, his hands were already sliding past the hem of her skirt and along her smooth thighs.

They moved higher until his fingers found the soft fabric of her undergarments. She hadn't asked him to stop, but that wasn't the same thing as allowing him to touch her in such an intimate way. She shifted her hips forward and the tip of his left middle finger moved along the hem of her underwear.

A small part of his brain understood this was dangerous, engaging in this kind of behavior in a public place on campus, but as the seconds ticked by, he found it was becoming more difficult to control himself. Her tongue broke away from his and she started tracing her mouth along his neck and jaw and rocked her hips forward again, pushing herself against his left hand. He was startled to find warm moisture there and his hand instinctively moved along the soft skin.

She shivered and Spock immediately recoiled. Had he overstepped his bounds? He should not have assumed; he should have asked her express permission before touching her in such a way.

"Why did you stop?" she gasped, staring at him. Her eyes were alert and untamed and she was breathing hard.

"You want me to continue?"

" _Yes_ ," she snapped.

He examined her face, allowing his eyes to run along the arches of her lips and the curves of her jaw. He wanted to mate with her; he wanted her to be his _mate_. He was about to ask if she would consent to retreat to a more private location – his quarters, a nearby hotel – when the laboratory door slid open.

Nyota visibly jumped when a young first year cadet stepped into the lab. He looked wholly confused by the scene before him – receiver parts all over the floor and Nyota perched on a counter with her skirt hiked up and jacket off and Spock standing in front of her in such close proximity.

"Is this a short range sensor lab?" he asked.

"There are two of them down the hall," Nyota barked, before smiling faintly and softening her tone. "Um, this is the long-range sensor lab and it's currently offline for repairs."

"Oh, yeah, I've never been down here," he admitted, surveying the scene.

Spock took a few steps back and Nyota leapt from the counter.

"I didn't mean to interrupt, sir," he added, looking nervously at Spock. "I'm just trying to work on my final project for my Introduction to Scanning Techniques class and I had one of the short-range labs scheduled but the one I normally use is locked."

"Lab B is the lab that's open for after hours," Nyota explained. "It's on the backside of the hallway by the first floor entrance."

"Oh, ok. I guess that explains it, because my class is assigned to Lab A. So um, _great_. Thanks. Sorry to bother you both," he mumbled, backing out of the lab.

As the door slid shut behind him, Nyota clapped her hands over her face and groaned. "Do you think he saw anything?"

"It is possible," Spock admitted. "Do you know him?"

"No. I have no idea who he is. This looks bad, Spock."

"We cannot alter what he has seen. We can only attempt to be more discreet in the future."

"What if he says something?"

"It will be his word against ours. We have a reasonable explanation for working in this lab together."

"Yeah, I was given the opportunity to fix a major screw-up before anyone found out. If he reports this to anyone, it'll come out anyway, along with-"

"You cannot control what he will do," Spock interrupted.

"How do you stay so calm?" she snapped, her voice cracking at the last word.

"Because I accept that panicking will not contribute to a more positive outcome."

"You should probably go before someone else comes wandering in," she mumbled. "I'll get the receiver fixed. Thank you for all of your help."

He nodded and left without another word. He still wanted to mate with her, but it was evident she was distressed and their reckless behavior had put them both in serious jeopardy. Why had he allowed himself to behave so impulsively, to surrender to his baser urges?

He was halfway down the hall and headed toward the exit when he saw someone turn the corner up ahead and approach him. Lieutenant Bautista.

"Commander Spock, what are you doing in my neck of the woods?" she laughed, striding toward him.

"Clarify."

"Well, the south wing is all communications labs. What are you doing roaming around here on a Friday night?" As she got closer, her expression shifted from friendly to curious.

"I had come to work on one of the training simulators," he explained. It was not untrue.

"But those are on the north side of the building. Why would you come out through the south entrance? Oh, and you have lipstick on your neck."

He resisted the urge to touch his neck, where Nyota had been kissing him just minutes ago. Bautista crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

"You know, Holly Akamatsu has been talking," she said quietly. "Whispering, mostly. _Insinuating_. I don't think anyone is taking her seriously, because you know, it's _you_. But the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. The last minute switching of advisors, her slipping grades and recent mistakes. Cadet Uhura told me she went to Florida for her birthday, and Ashley Riegelman had mentioned you said something about going to Florida recently too. Sure, it could be a coincidence, but it could also be something else."

He opened his mouth to attempt to offer an explanation but she held her hand up to silence him. "I don't want to know. If I know, I'd have to report you both, and I don't want to do that. Whatever is going on between you is none of my business, but if what Lieutenant Akamatsu is saying is true, you're both playing with fire."

"A fitting euphemism," Spock replied, tucking his hands behind his back.

She stepped closer and lowered her voice to a volume barely above a whisper. "I care about you both – you're my friend and she's my student – and you are both way too smart to throw your careers away over something like this. She graduates in less than two months. I'm not going to tell a soul, but if this comes out, I'm not going to lie for you either."

"Thank you," Spock replied quietly. "For your discretion and advice."

Bautista shook her head and said, "Well, I have a student in the long-range sensor lab that I thought I would check up on, but I'm sure you already know about that. See you Monday, Commander Spock."

He nodded and headed in the direction of the door, rubbing his neck to remove Nyota's makeup. Lieutenant Bautista had spoken logically – Nyota was graduating in 46 days and after that time, their relationship would no longer be forbidden. He walked slowly in the direction of the faculty housing building and by the time he arrived his quarters, he'd made his decision. The only logical solution to prevent more people from finding out about their relationship was to cease seeing one another until she graduated.

But he'd failed to account for how little logic was involved in acquiring a mate. While he was in the middle of dictating a message to Nyota informing her of his decision, he received one from her that said, " _You really think I would be an exceptional mate?"_

He erased his message and replied, "I do."

Seconds after he'd transmitted the message, he received a response. " _What are you doing tomorrow night_?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, ok, before you start throwing digital tomatoes at me for leaving them sexually frustrated once again, I have good news. Back in January, I wrote a short three-shot titled _Spock and the Bodice Ripper_ , which directly intersects with this story. I want to keep this work T-rated, and trust me when I say _Spock and the Bodice Ripper_ is a solidly M-rated story. You don't have to read that fic to keep up with this one, so if smut isn't your thing, you can safely skip it and still be able to follow on with the upcoming chapter to _An Algorithm for Dating_.
> 
> [ _Spock and the Bodice Ripper_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9221063/chapters/20912609)  
>  "There is no logic in anxiety, but each time his hands find their way to her warm, coconut scented skin, he worries about pleasing her. Information is power, so as their relationship grows more intimate, Spock decides to research human sexuality. What could go wrong? Rated M for language and sexual content."


	26. An Unexpected Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a quick recap – this chapter picks up where the last chapter of _Spock and the Bodice Ripper_ left off.

Nyota was awake long before she opened her eyes. Her mind was to active to allow her to sleep for long anyway. What an incredible night.

She'd come to Spock's apartment the evening before, dressed in a slinky red dress she'd bought two years ago and had never worn. She'd briefly considered trying Gaila's lucky black dress again because it left so little to the imagination and she figured she could use all the help she could get to tempt Spock into venturing beyond handholding, but much to her surprise, he hadn't needed much coaxing.

She rolled her head along the pillow and smiled. Spock was snuggled into the right side of her body, sound asleep and breathing softly. His hair, usually so tidy and practically glued in place with shellac, was tousled and parted at an odd angle, exposing his forehead and allowing her to see more of his face than she usually saw.

He was handsome, but she was _roasting_. Vulcans had a higher body temperature than humans, and judging by the clammy feel of her skin, Spock was no exception. She shimmied her shoulders along the sheets as carefully as she could manage to avoid waking him and a minute later, she was free. She sat up, stretched, and immediately winced.

An entire night of repeated lovemaking had taken a physical toll. Her oblique muscles and quads screamed in protest at the slightest movement, but she only had herself to blame. She was getting out of shape.

Her schedule had become so hectic that her usual exercise regimen had been forced to take a backseat to everything else. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gone for a run – it was probably the evening she stumbled into Spock in the coffee shop.

The thought of having to take one last fitness test prior to graduation suddenly felt daunting. She'd always achieved a maximum score, but then again, she'd always stuck to a very disciplined workout schedule. Maybe Lieutenant Bautista was right: she was starting to drop the ball, even if just a little at a time.

As much as she wanted to stay and have a naked snuggle with Spock on a Sunday morning, she had things to do. She sat back on her haunches and studied his face, smiling at the stubble forming on his jaw and the upward slope of his dark eyebrows. She prepared to slide out of bed and get dressed when his eyes flickered open and he said, "Good morning, Nyota."

"Good morning," she grinned.

He extended his hand and ran it up the length of her stomach until he cupped her left breast gently in his palm. That was all it took. Despite her stiff muscles and his initial grogginess, they were soon caught in a frenzy to satisfy their mutual physical hunger for one another.

About half an hour later, they both flopped back onto his bed, panting and exhausted. She rested her head on his shoulder and traced her left hand along his abdomen. Aside from some sparse hair on his upper chest that trailed down to his navel, his skin was smooth and surprisingly soft to the touch.

Her fingers continued along his stomach until she brushed his forearm. She gently caressed a faint, greenish-white scar and frowned. "I never noticed this last night."

He glanced at his arm and then looked into her eyes. "If you recall, I received this scar-"

"Aboard the _Dalton_ ," she finished with a weak smile. "I remember. How could I possibly _forget_? You tackled me right before the crash and got a broken arm for your troubles."

"It was logical to make an effort to preserve your life."

She chortled. "Don't get me wrong – I'm glad you did. It's so weird – it feels like that all happened a lifetime ago, back when I thought you were just some frustrating perfectionist trapped in a love affair with rules and regulations. And _now_ look at us."

"Perfection is unattainable," he replied.

"I know," she agreed. "But what? Nothing to say about rules and regulations?"

"Rules and regulations exist to ensure safety, promote equality-"

"And keep cadets from sleeping with the faculty?" she finished.

"Our situation is unique."

She wanted to argue, but it wasn't really worth arguing about. She was just as guilty as he was of breaking Starfleet's fraternization rules, so there didn't seem to be any point in giving him a hard time.

A brief period of silence fell between them and she busied herself studying the rhythms of his rapid heartbeat and wondering how it was she'd come to this crossroads in her life. She was on the verge of graduating from Starfleet Academy, starting an assignment on the Federation's flagship, and sleeping with her former Vulcan professor who would soon be her first officer. The version of herself from four months earlier wouldn't even recognize her current self.

What was it about Spock that drew her in? It certainly wasn't his sense of style or humor. He was averagely handsome and extraordinarily intelligent, but that description fit a sizable number of men trotting around Starfleet Academy. Why had her heart decided on him?

He had a wonderful way of being accidentally romantic: her birthday in Florida, showing up at the lab last night. He'd been like a knight in shining armor, a classic archetype she'd never particularly cared for, but it was somehow endearing when Spock did it. He didn't operate on the assumption she needed or wanted to be rescued. No, his actions seemed to come from a genuine desire to please her – he'd been so insistent on tending to her needs last night and hadn't even thought about himself at first – and his sincerity was incredibly refreshing.

There were no games between them; they were honest with each other. He was patient, she was often impatient. She could be moody, he was the picture of calm. She was sociable, he tended toward awkwardness. They seemed to balance each other in all the right ways and she adored it.

She'd struggled mightily with the idea that she was falling in love with him – who fell in love with someone after only dating for two months? – but as time passed, she was starting to think maybe she could feel things for Spock that she'd never bothered to feel for anyone else. After last night's rounds of sex and mind melding, she was definitely considering it a possibility.

Spock's PADD chirped from its perch on the nearby nightstand, starling her out of her thoughts. "I should go," she groaned. "I have a bunch of assignments to turn in next week and I'm thinking I'm overdue for a visit to the gym."

"Then I do not intend to detain you," he replied, sitting up on his elbows.

"But I don't want to go," she sighed. "Last night was… _amazing_."

And she meant it. After a few initial missteps that included a broken nose and a near argument, they'd shared an incredible experience together.

"I do not believe last night's events have any bearing on today's duties," he replied. "I also have much to accomplish today."

She rolled over, pushed herself up, and kissed him lightly. "Touch my mind again."

He cocked his head to the side and searched her face for further explanation. "I just feel really close to you when you mind meld with me."

"That is the primary function of mind melding," he reminded her, lifting his right hand to her cheek.

She instantly perceived his mood. He was content. So was she. She smiled and closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of having their minds linked together. Why had she been so hesitant to do this the first time? He retracted his hand and she sighed.

"Yeah, I know, I need to get going," she said. "We both have things to do."

They worked their way out of bed and into his sonic shower. Nyota wished she'd packed a spare set of clothes, because nothing screamed walk of shame louder than showing up at her dorm on a Sunday morning wearing a dress far more appropriate for a Saturday night.

Half an hour later, they were both fully clothed and lingering in the front entry of his quarters, waiting for the person from the Transporter Office to initiate her transport from his quarters. Spock stood back so as to not get caught in the transporter beam and Nyota had to fight to avoid giving him one last kiss goodbye.

"Any plans for next weekend?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"None," he admitted. "I presume your query was an indirect attempt to make plans with me."

"Isn't it illogical to presume?" she teased.

"With most individuals, but I am becoming better acquainted with your mind."

She scoffed. "So is that a yes or a no to spending time together next weekend?"

"I am free all weekend."

"Great, I'll send you-" A warm rush sliced through her body and her words dissolved into the transporter beam. When she rematerialized in the Transporter Office downtown, she finished her sentence. "-a message letting you know when's a good time."

She chuckled and shook her head as she stepped off the transporter pad. She swiped her chip card through the scanner to pay for the transporter service and then made her way out to the street to find the next bus heading back to Starfleet Academy.

"Hey Nyota," called a male voice behind her.

She turned to see Jeremy Weber following her out of the Transporter Office. He scanned her figure and she felt embarrassment creeping into her cheeks. She wasn't dressed _inappropriately_ , exactly, but it was a tight garment with a short hemline for a typical Sunday morning. She slowed her stride to allow him to catch her.

"You look like you had a good night," he said with a smug grin.

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared back at him. He stank of alcohol and looked like he'd slept in his clothes. "And you look like you had… a _night_."

"Yeah," he mumbled, wringing his hands. "How've you been?"

"Good. You?"

"Good. I mean, good enough. It's been a busy term but I'm getting by."

"Same," she agreed.

They stopped at the bus stop and she groaned inwardly. They'd missed the previous shuttle by only two minutes and it would be twenty more until the next one came along. So much for avoiding an awkward wait.

"So how's Amy?" she asked.

"We broke up."

"Again?"

"Just last night, actually. She's graduating and heading off to the _Farragut_ and I still have another year at the Academy. I saw it coming, but you know."

"I'm sorry," she replied, trying to feign her most sympathetic look.

She wasn't _really_ sorry. He'd stood her up at a restaurant on Valentine's weekend to spend time with his ex-girlfriend. She'd never really cared for him romantically, but after that, she didn't really care for him in any sense of the word. Sure, Gaila had meddled too, but in the end, Jeremy had been the one to make the choice.

How strange that she'd never really thought about it much until now. She should have been hurt or offended by what he'd done, but all that remained was indifference. Jeremy had been such an afterthought, especially considering she'd gone on to kiss Spock for the first time the same night as her failed date with Jeremy.

"What are you apologizing to me for?" he asked. "I figured you'd probably never want to see me again. I didn't know how to tell you in person about Amy and I assumed you wouldn't care because you didn't seem that into me."

Part of her really wanted to lay into him, but it seemed silly to be petty when she genuinely didn't care. It had barely bothered her at the time, and it bothered her even less now. "It's all water under the bridge."

"That's really gracious of you," he replied suspiciously.

"It's the truth. I really wasn't that into you. It's a shame you couldn't tell me you got back together with your ex-girlfriend, but it sounds like karma caught up to you in the end."

" _Ouch_ ," he laughed. "But fair enough. Anyway, how have you been?"

"You already asked me that," she reminded him.

"Oh, right: you've been good. I should probably congratulate you on the senior training mission. People are still talking about it."

"Yeah, thanks," she smiled.

"You must be looking forward to graduating."

"I am. I can't wait to be done with this place. I do nothing but sleep and study."

"I find that hard to believe," he said, ogling her dress.

"Ok, so I went out _one_ night."

"From what I hear, you go out more than that."

"So what- you're _spying_ on me?"

"No, but I hear things," he confessed.

"Like what?"

"Stupid rumors. You know how bored cadets get when there's a gossip shortage. They start making things up."

"Like what kinds of things?"

"Like about how you're dating Commander Spock."

She tried to swallow the knot in her throat and keep her composure. Responding too quickly would result in a shrill voice and make her look guilty, but responding too slowly would make her look guilty also. "That's ridiculous. If I were going to sleep with a teacher, I'd at least sleep with one who had a sense of humor."

"That's what I said," he grinned.

"Honestly, where do you even hear this stuff?" she sneered, praying her voice sounded more disgusted than afraid.

"I don't know. But you know how people talk. Tomorrow they'll invent some other story and no one will even remember."

"But it's not _true_ ," she lied. "Why would I date Commander Spock?"

"Since when has the rumor mill ever cared about the truth?"

An already awkward shuttle bus ride back to campus became agony. Her mind was racing with the possibilities. There were rumors going around, and rumors were as bad as real evidence. What if she got called into the commandant's office? Was there any actual proof linking her to Spock in a romantic way? She racked her brain trying to analyze the situation.

It was hard acting nonchalant around Jeremy while her mind cycled through the various scenarios of interrogations and expulsion. She wanted to know where Jeremy had heard the rumor, but she didn't want to act too bothered by it and draw more suspicion.

When she stumbled into her dorm room half an hour later, she was startled to find Gaila sitting cross-legged on her bed and studying a PADD. "You were out late."

"Yeah," Nyota replied.

"I would ask what Commander Spock is like between the sheets, but the truth is, I don't really want to know," Gaila said, looking up and offering a weak smile. "But you look happy, and I'm happy for you."

Nyota rolled her eyes and grimaced. Of course Gaila would know; it didn't take someone with Gaila's intuition to figure out what had happened last night. "Thanks."

"So, do anything else fun this weekend?"

"Well, I worked in the long-range sensor lab all Friday night. You never messaged me back, by the way," Nyota said, crossing her arms.

Gaila's eyes grew wide and she clapped her hands over her mouth. "I'm so sorry. I got so caught up – do you still need help? I'm not the best with restoring servers-"

"Don't worry about it; I got it sorted out," Nyota sighed.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Nyota. I feel like an awful friend."

"We've both had our ups and downs in the friendship department, but you're still one of the best friends I've ever had. If it were really a huge deal, I would have just called you until you answered anyway." She shot Gaila a reassuring smirk.

Gaila groaned and fell back onto her bed. "I need to hurry up and graduate. All this school is starting to fry my brain."

"Same here," Nyota admitted. "I would ask how your weekend went, but like you said, I don't really want to know. I'm honestly surprised to find you here. I would have thought you'd still be out with Kirk."

"Well, you thought wrong," Gaila sniffed.

"Gaila, what is it?"

"I'm really into him, but sometimes I think our relationship is one-sided."

Nyota had told her as much on numerous occasions, using those exact same words. She was prepared to launch into a tirade about Gaila's two-timing smarmy boyfriend but figured it probably wasn't the best time for a rant. "Well, you already know how I feel. Remember how you told me Jeremy wasn't right for me? Well, I don't think Jim Kirk is right for you. You could do so much better. You _deserve_ better."

"I feel like I really click with him sometimes though," Gaila insisted, sitting up. "That can't just be an accident."

"Maybe not, but do you think that means you're never going to click with anyone else? Like Jim Kirk is your only chance at true love?"

Gaila frowned and looked away. Nyota frantically racked her brain, searching for just the right words to convince Gaila to ditch Kirk once and for all when Gaila announced, "I'm going to go talk to him."

Gaila left a few minutes later and Nyota gazed around their room. Gaila's side was a disaster, as usual, and her half was starting to get uncharacteristically cluttered too. When she added the task of cleaning her room to her to-do list, she wanted to scream in frustration.

She started to strip off her dress to change into sweats but the moment she peeled the dress down to her waist, she caught a hint of a scent that reminded her of a mild woody smell. _Spock_. They had showered, but her dress still smelled like him. An enormous grin spread across her face and she flopped backwards onto her bed.

She wanted to just take the day and be smitten and gush over her wonderful new relationship, but she had too much to do. She eventually talked herself into getting dressed, and the rest of her day went by in a blur of writing papers, studying, cleaning, and compiling her data for her thesis.

The week went on that way, and despite the fact that she felt like she was moving at a million kilometers per hour, Spock was never far from her mind. There were times she could swear she was sensing his thoughts, which felt a bit like getting caught up in a weak mind meld, but she knew that was impossible.

She saw him exactly one time, just for a brief instant outside the basement cafeteria in the main building. She had been very careful to look away, but it had been difficult to hide her smile. The longer their relationship went on, the harder it was not to grin like a fool any time she saw him in passing. The one thing that easily sobered her up was the fear of getting caught.

She agonized over Jeremy's remark that people thought they were dating, and any time someone would give her a weird look or whisper in her vicinity, she felt certain they were talking about her. So she added paranoia to her list of overwhelming emotions and worked overtime to appear as normal as possible.

By the middle of the week, Jeremy had been proven right anyway: other salacious gossip had come along and if people had ever been speculating that she and Spock were an item, they quickly forgot about it when news of Lieutenant Ahn's resignation and Molly DeWitt's withdrawal from the Academy surfaced.

Apparently her former logistics professor had gotten involved with a second-year cadet and someone had reported them. They had both had been reprimanded by the commandant and had chosen to leave the Academy rather than face the public backlash. That was where the facts stopped and hearsay took on a life of its own. The stories ranged from DeWitt seducing Ahn to try and boost her grade to the Trill man preying on DeWitt, but Nyota tried to stay out of it. The only people who would ever really know the truth were Lieutenant Ahn and Cadet DeWitt.

She hated being relieved that other peoples' misfortune had turned any possible attention away from her, but the event was a chilling reminder of just how serious things were. If they were caught, would people talk about them the same way they were talking about DeWitt and Ahn? Of course they would, and probably _worse_.

Everyone knew Lieutenant Ahn had a charming personality and she found out Molly DeWitt was an older cadet – in her late twenties or early thirties – so it wasn't like it was that hard to believe that they might have had things in common. But there were times even _she_ didn't believe she was dating a Vulcan, so how would other people react? The Academy would have a field day.

She wondered if she should just put their relationship on hold for the next month and a half. It wasn't forever, not even close. It was the only smart decision, but despite this, she still found herself messaging Spock throughout the week, making plans to have dinner and watch holomovies in his quarters on Friday night. How strange that the one thing that gave her a sense of comfort in her increasingly complicated life was also the main thing making it so complicated.

She woke up on Friday morning in a good mood, thinking a cozy night with Spock was just the thing she needed after an incredibly stressful week. She hummed cheerfully as she brushed her teeth and combed her hair and practically skipped to the closet to select a clean uniform. She was on her way out the door when her personal PADD started to vibrate.

A transmission from her brother. Her eyes widened as she realized he was coming to visit _this_ weekend. She slid her finger across the screen to accept the call. The long, thin face of her brother appeared on the screen and she felt a huge wave of nostalgia mixed with surprise.

She'd seen him over the winter break five months ago, but he looked so much older than she remembered. He looked grown up. It was hard to believe her baby brother was 18 and getting ready to leave home.

"Hi, Malcolm. How are you?"

"I'm great, I'm great. Mama says she told you I was coming this weekend, but I just wanted to be sure you remembered."

"Of course! How could I forget?" she lied. "Do you know where you'll be staying? The Academy has guest quarters for visitors here on tours, but-"

"That's what I wanted to warn you about," he interrupted with an apologetic grimace. "I tried to tell her I wanted to do this on my own, but…"

Nyota groaned. "Mama's coming with you, isn't she?"

"Yes, and Uaekundu. Consider it one big family vacation to tour Starfleet Academy and visit my second favorite sister." He raised his eyebrows playfully. He'd used that joke on both Nyota and Uaekundu ever since they were little.

"It'll be so good to see you all again," she stammered, wondering how true her statement was. It _would_ be good to see them, but she wasn't looking forward to her mother's interrogations and losing out on an entire weekend of studying.

"We'll be arriving at the port at 1910 hours. I tried to convince mama to try the transporter, but let's just say she's not exactly on board with that piece of technology. I think her exact words were, 'Why don't you just dissolve me in a vat of acid?'"

Nyota laughed out loud. "That sounds like our mother."

"Right, so she found us a hotel room downtown, but I'm sure she'll want to go to dinner tonight and you know she'll want you to go on the tour with us tomorrow. She wanted to surprise you and made me promise not to tell you she and Uaekundu were joining me, but I couldn't do that to my second favorite sister now, could I?"

"You're a saint, Malcolm," she murmured. "You have no idea."

"Well, see you tonight. Remember to act surprised."

"Yeah. Love you, little brother."

It felt like agony sending Spock a message explaining that they would have to put their date off until the following weekend and she spent the rest of the day too distressed about her mother's pending visit to focus much in class.

When her mother exited the shuttle ramp near the San Francisco Bay later that evening, Nyota did her best to look shocked and took extra time hugging her mother and sister. She couldn't remember how many times she exclaimed some variation of, "I can't believe you both came! What a treat!"

Thanks to Malcolm's forewarning, she'd scrubbed her room to a standard that a doctor would probably deem acceptable to perform open-heart surgery in, put on one of her nicer outfits, and took the time to do her hair and nails. Her mother had always complained that Starfleet stripped people of their individuality, so she always went out of her way to look extra nice when visiting with her mother.

They had barely settled into the back of a taxi when her mother asked, "So tell me about this boyfriend of yours."

"I thought you came to San Francisco to see Starfleet Academy with Malcolm, even though you toured it this same time four years ago with me," Nyota replied.

She noticed Uaekundu smile out of the corner of her eye. This was going to be a _very_ long weekend.

They went to dinner at a Thai restaurant and though her mother brought up the subject of her daughter's "secret boyfriend" any chance she could get, they also found time to discuss other things. It was good to have her family all together in one place, and she told them all about her future assignment to _Enterprise._

Malcolm talked about his interest in the Academy's computer science program and his trepidation about serving in Starfleet. He had already been accepted to the Academy, along with the computer science and engineering programs of more than a dozen other prestigious universities, but he was still on the fence about the idea of being required to serve eight years in Starfleet after graduation.

Nyota tried to give him an honest assessment: the work was hard and sometimes it meant following orders she didn't like, but she felt certain he would adapt really well to the lifestyle if he was willing to give it a chance. Any time she said something positive about Starfleet, her mother would cluck her tongue, roll her eyes, or take a long drink of water. Eventually Nyota dropped the subject in favor of discussing her younger sister.

Uaekundu was still a free spirit and very much undecided about her future, but not really worried about it, which clearly frustrated their mother. Malcolm had just turned 18 and Uaekundu would be 17 in a few months, but she had never really been as driven and outgoing as her older siblings. She was smart and very quiet, and unlike Nyota and Malcolm, she'd been more willing to submit herself to their mother's overbearing protective nature.

As their dinner drew to a close, she hugged her family goodbye and explained she had a lot of studying to do but would join them on tomorrow's tour. It was only 2200 hours and part of her wanted to message Spock and see if she could come over, but she chose the responsible option and went back to her dorm and studied until she fell asleep.

She awoke the next morning to Gaila's voice. "Of course you're welcome in here. It's so great to meet you all in person after all these years! I hope the room's not a mess!"

Nyota rolled over and yelped. Gaila was standing in the entryway and her family was standing behind them. Thankfully, Nyota had gone over their room with a fine toothcomb to hunt down any offending dirt particle, but she could see her mother's critical eye gazing around the room anyway.

"What are you doing here? The tour doesn't start until 0900 hours," Nyota said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and throwing back the covers.

"It's 0800 now," her mother explained. "Miss Gaila was kind enough to let us in the building. Evidently you need some kind of access card."

"Thanks, Gaila," Nyota said, glaring at her friend and thinking to herself, " _A two minute warning might have been nice_."

"You room is very tidy," her mother declared. "I approve."

Nyota wondered if she was hallucinating. "Oh, uh, _sure_. Thanks, mama. Um, let me get dressed and we can go get some breakfast before the tour starts."

She could hear Gaila talking to her family as she flew through her morning hygiene routine. They would laugh, it would get quiet, muffled words would continue, followed by more laughter. Ten minutes later, she burst through the lavatory door dressed in jeans and a light t-shirt and explained she was ready to go.

"Perhaps Miss Gaila would like to join us for today's tour?" her mother said, looking at her hopefully.

Nyota glanced at Gaila who shrugged and replied, "I would love to, but I'm meeting my boyfriend for a study session in the library."

Nyota narrowed her eyes and mouthed, " _With Jim Kirk_?" Gaila gave another innocent shrug and nodded. Nyota rolled her eyes. So much for Gaila finally seeing sense.

"Oh, you have a boyfriend?" her mother asked. "I don't suppose you know anything about my daughter's mystery suitor?"

Nyota's heart skipped a beat, but Gaila's intuition, though completely blind where Jim Kirk was concerned, correctly read the situation. "No, Nyota insists on keeping him a secret," she sighed. "Sometimes I think she just made him up as an excuse to get away from here and study somewhere quiet. Anyway, I need to get going. I'm sorry you're leaving tonight and we couldn't spend more time together."

"We should be going too," Nyota agreed, letting out a slow sigh of relief.

As they filed out of their dorm room, Gaila said, "Good luck, Malcolm. Starfleet Academy's a great school. I hope you decide to come here."

Malcolm mumbled something unintelligible and she noticed for the first time he was giving Gaila some really weird looks. She glared at her roommate, who scoffed and muttered under her breath, "He's really cute Nyota, more _adorable_ than anything, but I would _never_."

After a quick breakfast, they made their way to the center of campus and linked up with their tour guide, a third year cadet Nyota often saw in passing. It seemed strange to tour the school she'd called home for the past four years. It was like seeing an old friend in a new light, and she started to feel nostalgic. She was really going to miss this place.

The tour ended in the early afternoon and the prospective students and their families fanned out over campus to explore various departments and monuments on their own. Malcolm wanted to go by the computer science labs because they'd only walked around the outside of the building during the tour, so Nyota escorted them to the lower division labs on the first floor of the Tarkington building. They were barely through the entry of the building before Malcolm became engrossed in the digital poster displays of recent research projects that lined the walls.

"Is there a lavatory anywhere?" Uaekundu whispered, nudging Nyota's arm.

"Yeah, I'll go with you. I have a feeling Malcolm's going to be a while."

Nyota studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she waited for her sister, and as Uaekundu started washing her hands at the sanitizing station, her little sister murmured, "So this boyfriend of yours…"

"Ugh, not you too," Nyota moaned.

"What, is he like a drug-dealing Gorn or something?"

She stifled a laugh and crossed her arms. "Not quite, but almost as bad. At least in mama's eyes, I'm sure."

"How bad could he be? Is he really that embarrassing?"

"He's not embarrassing at all, it's just… _complicated_. And you know how mama gets."

"Trust me, I know. But we never talk anymore. There once was a time when you wouldn't have hesitated to tell me about a boy."

Nyota sighed and glanced around the empty lavatory. "You won't tell mama? Or anyone else?"

Uaekundu shot her a pointed look. "It hurts you would even ask me that."

Nyota took a few steps forward and lowered her voice. "It's one of my former professors."

Uaekundu's eyes widened mischievously. "How old is he?"

"I- I actually, I don't know," she stammered. "He's not _old_ old, though. But he's Vulcan. Well, _half_ Vulcan anyway. His mother is human."

"And what about him makes you think mama will hate him?"

"I think the real question is can you imagine a man mama would approve of?" Nyota fired back.

Uaekundu thought briefly to herself before shaking her head and laughing. "Are you worried she'll disapprove because he's Vulcan or because he used to be your teacher?"

"Both."

"I doubt she'd care much about the Vulcan part," Uaekundu insisted. "If anything, I bet she'd be excited and think he was a good influence or something. But the professor part… I don't know."

"You can't say anything," Nyota reminded her. "Please. It's against Starfleet Academy policy to date a professor and I could get in serious trouble if anyone found out."

Uaekundu raised her eyebrows. "You're the _last_ person I thought would ever be involved in some sordid, secret relationship."

"Four months ago, I would have agreed," Nyota mumbled.

"What's it like dating a Vulcan?" Uaekundu asked. "Do you like, solve math problems together or something?"

Nyota chuckled. "It's nothing like that. He's really… kind. Caring. Patient."

"You look happy," Uaekundu said. "You look really tired too, but for the first time in years, you look completely happy. I bet he's a good person, and if you like him, I'm sure I'll like him too, if and when you ever find the courage to bring him home to meet us."

They wandered back into the corridor and Nyota could hear voices coming from around the corner. Her blood ran cold.

"So would you be one of Malcolm's teachers then?" her mother asked.

"No, this is my last term at Starfleet Academy," Spock replied.

"Nyota, are you ok?" Uaekundu asked.

She was holding her breath. She walked toward the sound of her mother's voice, and they turned the corner of an intersecting hallway and found her mother and brother conversing with Spock just outside of his office. Spock was wearing civilian clothes and though she didn't know why he'd come into work on a Saturday afternoon, there he was.

She stole a glance at Uaekundu just in time to see her sister mouth the words, " _Is that him_?"

Nyota nodded numbly and ventured forward, praying this didn't turn into a disaster.

"So where do you go after this?" her mother asked.

"I have received an assignment as the first officer of the _Enterprise_ ," Spock explained.

"That's where my daughter Nyota is going!" her mother exclaimed. "Oh, and here she is, and this is my other daughter, Uaekundu."

"Mama," Nyota mumbled, refusing to look at her boyfriend. "Why are you bothering Commander Spock? I'm sure he's very busy."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Uhura," Spock said, addressing her sister, who was obviously holding in hysterical laughter like a champion.

"So I take it you two know each other?" her mother asked, pointing to Nyota.

"Yes, Cadet Uhura was in my xenolinguistics programming lab. I was also aboard the _Dalton II_ with her late last year as her observer controller."

Her mother's jaw dropped. " _You're_ the one who saved my daughter's life?"

"She was responsible for saving mine as well," Spock admitted.

"I don't know how to thank you," her mother replied. "It's such an honor to finally meet you."

Nyota thought the situation couldn't get any worse, until she sensed her mother was stepping forward to give Spock a hug. "Mama, we should probably let Commander Spock get back to whatever he was doing and it's getting pretty late. You still have to check out of the hotel."

Her mother shot her an annoyed look but she turned back to Spock and said, "Please take care of her. You have no idea how much she means to me."

"I believe I do," Spock replied. "And I also believe that Cadet Uhura is quite capable of taking care of herself. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Uhura, Miss Uhura. I also wish you well with your endeavors, Mr. Uhura."

"Yeah, and thanks for recommending those articles, I'll check them out," Malcolm added.

"Certainly." Spock entered his office and was gone.

"Mama, do you have to tell our entire life story to every single person you meet?" Nyota hissed.

"Are you embarrassed of me?" her mother replied, moving toward the main hallway.

"Don't start that," Nyota growled, storming after her.

They were barely into their bickering when Nyota heard Malcolm exclaim, " _Really_?" from behind them. Nyota looked over her shoulder to see Malcolm glancing from Nyota to Spock's office door. Uaekundu had her hand over her mouth to stifle laughter. Nyota glared at her sister so hard she wondered if it was possible for eyes to just randomly pop out of their sockets.

"What's so funny?" their mother asked.

"Nothing," Malcolm choked, trying to rein in his own hysterics. "Nothing at all."


	27. Caught

Spock strolled through the main entrance of the staff quarters building, nodding to the young first year cadet sitting behind the staff duty desk. It was Friday afternoon and Nyota was due in his quarters in less than an hour.

"Good afternoon, sir," the cadet said, rising to his feet as Spock approached.

"Who is the officer on duty this evening?" he asked.

Before he could answer, Lieutenant Akamatsu emerged from the back office. "Can I help you, Commander?"

"Lieutenant Akamatsu," he replied, nodding slightly. "I do not require assistance, I merely wished to know who was assigned as the duty officer of the day."

"That's me," she said, a small smile spreading over her face. "I'll be here all night."

He started to excuse himself when she added, "I got some interesting news today."

The inflection in her voice was atypical. Many humans – Nyota included – were in the habit of making a declaration and expecting others to either beg to know or guess what it was. Spock said nothing.

"I got assigned to the senior computing engineer position aboard the _USS_ _Armstrong_ ," she explained.

"Congratulations," Spock replied.

"It's not exactly what I was _hoping_ for," she added, her eyes narrowing.

"I presume you refer to your desire to be posted to _Enterprise_ ," Spock replied.

She glanced at the cadet sitting to her left. "Hey, Cadet Ndiaye, why don't you go perform the hourly building checks?"

"I just did them, ma'am," the cadet answered, turning the computer monitor to show her the log.

"Why don't you do them again?" Akamatsu insisted.

Cadet Ndiaye opened his mouth and quickly shut it again. "Aye, ma'am."

Spock watched the cadet scurry through the double doors. It would be illogical for her to be angry at this turn of events – a senior staff position aboard the _Armstrong_ was preferable to a junior position aboard the _Enterprise_ in terms of promotion potential. Yet Akamatsu clearly didn't place much stock in logic if she was content with blackmail and spreading rumors in an attempt to get her way.

Spock had yet to devise a reasonable strategy for dealing with the problem that didn't result in similarly unscrupulous behavior. Both Nyota and Lieutenant Bautista had warned him about the rumors Lieutenant Akamatsu had been spreading, but the incident with Lieutenant Ahn and Cadet DeWitt had occupied much of the Academy's attention for the past few weeks. While Spock struggled to understand other species' fascination with the private matters of others, the public reaction to their Ahn and DeWitt's relationship was concerning. It was logical to conclude that should he and Nyota be discovered, they would share a similar fate.

"The senior computing engineer position aboard a _Constitution_ class starship is a prestigious one," he remarked.

"Oh, _sure_ ," she replied. "Then again, I'm not sure how I feel about spending the next two years patrolling the Klingon border, but you know…"

"There were no available computer engineers positions aboard Enterprise, senior or otherwise," he informed her.

"Yeah, because they went to cadets," she said, her tone growing hostile.

"It was Captain Pike's decision to offer those positions to recent Starfleet Academy graduates," he insisted. "I had no say in the matter."

"I'm assuming you didn't say much of _anything_ ," she spat.

"What I did or did not say is irrelevant. You have been assigned to a ship comparable to the _Enterprise_ and should you serve honorably, you will likely achieve the rank of lieutenant commander before the term of your posting is complete."

He heard the door slide open behind him and saw Akamatsu's posture stiffen. "Good afternoon, admiral." Spock turned and acknowledged Admiral Barnett, the Academy's commandant.

"Don't stop what you're doing on account of me," the admiral said, waiving dismissively as he strode through the lobby. "The duty day is over for me."

"Me as well," Spock said, glancing back at Akamatsu.

He followed the admiral out of the lobby and toward the bank of turbolifts. "Where are you headed, commander?" Admiral Barnett asked, toggling the lift's selector switch.

"The nineteenth floor, sir," Spock replied.

The lift shot upwards and the admiral cocked his head and said, "I heard you're slated to be the new first officer of the _Enterprise_. Good work, Commander Spock."

"Thank you, sir."

"The Academy will be losing one of its best instructors, but you deserve to move on to better things."

"Your vote of confidence is appreciated, sir."

The lift slowed to a stop and the doors slid open. "Enjoy your weekend, Commander. Not too many long weekends left for you, if you're bound for a starship."

Spock nodded politely and exited the lift. He intended to enjoy his weekend very much. He had not talked to Nyota since the prior weekend when he'd met her family in the hallway of the Tarkington building. Meeting the Uhura family had been an unexpected but fascinating experience.

He had been on his way to his office to access the Academy's secure server when he'd encountered her brother in the hallway. He had noted the unusual resemblance between Malcolm and Nyota, but Malcolm's status as Nyota's brother hadn't been confirmed until Nyota's mother had introduced herself. Their conversation had been brief, but Spock could not understand why Nyota was so hesitant to introduce him to them.

Spock made his way to the lavatory, showered, and donned a set of simple civilian clothes. No sooner had he pulled the shirt over his head than he received a notification from the transporter office that Nyota was standing by. She was fifteen minutes early, but Spock didn't mind.

When she materialized by the door, she wasted no time in removing the clothes he'd just put on. They had mated seven times before, but the eighth time was no less exhilarating than any of their previous couplings had been. There was something amiss, however. Her hands were frantic and her body was impatient, and when they slumped back on to the sheets twenty minutes later, sweaty and out of breath, she rested her head on his chest and sighed heavily.

"Good afternoon, Nyota."

She barked a sharp laugh and rolled onto her back. "Yeah, I guess we skipped the usual round of talking and catching up, huh?"

"Is something the matter?" he asked.

"Why do you ask?"

"You seem distracted."

"It's been the week from hell for me."

"Explain."

"Aside from a nerve wracking visit from my mother – she really likes you, by the way – and a considerable amount of drama with my roommate and being worried about my upcoming finals and thesis submission, I constantly feel… _judged_. I feel like everyone is talking about me behind my back. Lieutenant Akamatsu started all these rumors and I think all the stuff that went down with Lieutenant Ahn is only going to distract people for so long."

Spock decided it would be wise to avoid mentioning his earlier conversation with Akamatsu. "How do you wish to proceed?"

She rolled over to face him and propped herself up on her elbow. "I don't want to break things off with you, but I graduate in a month. I guess I was just thinking…"

"You wish to avoid contacting one another until after your graduation," he finished.

"Do you think I'm overreacting?"

"I think you are making an effort to be cautious," he replied. "It is logical."

"If what I'm suggesting is logical, then why have you agreed to keep seeing me these past months anyway?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"There is little logic where affection is concerned," he explained.

Nyota sighed and rested her cheek against his chest. "I just think it's for the best. Why keep tempting fate, you know?"

"Do you wish to leave?"

"Are you kicking me out?"

"I merely desire to respect your wishes."

"Well, I'm already here and- are you _sure_ you're ok with this?" She sat up twisted at the waist to face him.

His eyes lingered on her small, rounded breasts and gentle slope of her collarbones. "Clarify."

"I don't want to _end_ our relationship, I just want to press pause."

"I understand your intent. Your suggestion is prudent and one which is easily achievable." 

She frowned and began playing with his bed sheets. "Well, in that case, I don't see why I should have to go right _now_. I'm already here, you know?"

Spock leaned forward and Nyota, sensing what he intended, met him halfway. Their kiss was gentle and tender at first, and then progressed to something hungrier and more insistent. He slid one hand down the inside of her bare thigh and touched the other one to her cheek, allowing the stream of her thoughts and emotions to flow into him.

It startled him. Nyota was far beyond bothered by her present circumstances – her mind was fractured and frayed at every turn. The thought of being caught didn't make her nervous, it _terrified_ her. And there was so much disappointment and guilt, but he was initially unable to trace its source.

Then it clicked. Something about Gailia and Kirk and… she pulled away violently before he could make sense of it. His hand still rested between her legs but she shoved it away and glared at him. "What are you doing?"

"I was attempting to mind meld with you," he explained, trying to piece together the thoughts he'd just detected. "You had previously given me your consent, but perhaps I ought to have verified that consent was still valid."

"Well it _isn't_ ," she growled.

"I apologize," he said, attempting to repress the strange sensation of fear welling inside him. He truly had not intended to make her angry; on the contrary, he had wanted to assist her in quelling her unpleasant emotions.

What had made her so uneasy? Fleeting bits of information he'd unintentionally retrieved from Nyota swirled to the surface of his mind. She had been with Gaila and Kirk and had been extremely uncomfortable.

_"Those logs are restricted, you know. I could get expelled just for pulling them off the mainframe, let alone giving them to another student."_

_"_ _Relax_ _. I tell you what – why don't we go up to one of the simulator observation decks?"_

_"Why do you even like coming to the labs? Can't we just go back to my room? My roommate is never there anymore. It's not a big deal."_

Though the context didn't make sense, he was certain it was a conversation between Cadets Kirk and Gaila. How Nyota fit into the memory was less clear.

"Maybe this was a mistake," Nyota said, shaking her head. She stumbled out of bed and scrambled to find her clothing.

"Clarify."

"That stuff was _private_ , Spock."

"Nyota, are you involved in assisting Cadet Kirk in cheating?"

" _No_ ," she said flatly, hurling his shirt at him.

He believed her, and yet… he thought back over the thoughts he'd just perceived from her. "Is Cadet Gaila involved in assisting Cadet Kirk in violating the Academy's academic honesty policy?"

Nyota clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes. "I thought we agreed to keep our personal and professional lives separate."

"We did, however, what Cadet Kirk has done is a serious violation of policy. Additionally, it-"

" _You're_ lecturing _me_ about Academy policies?" she interrupted.

"Our relationship is irrelevant," he began.

"Not in the grand scheme of things," she retorted. "Breaking rules is breaking rules no matter how you try to justify it."

Her statement was logical. Spock considered the situation and his options. He saw Nyota as his mate and had no desire to upset her. She shoved one leg into her trousers and stood up too quickly and tripped. She smashed into the floor and uttered a swift swear word before launching back to her feet and fumbling with her buttons.

"I understand you have a degree of loyalty to Cadet Gaila-" he began. 

" _Yeah_ , I do. What do you want from me, Spock? You want me to tell you all about how- no, you know what, never mind. I don't care what happens to Kirk and everyone knows he deserves to get knocked down a peg, but Gaila is my _friend_. He's using her and I can't, I _won't_ say anything that will get her in trouble."

It took considerable effort to keep his emotions in check and navigate the situation logically. Nyota was keeping secrets from him that involved another cadet's cheating. He knew human loyalties were complex and remarkable things, and evidently in this situation, her loyalty fell with Gaila rather than him. As careful as he had been to avoid favoritism and conflicts of interest, it was clear their relationship made them inevitable.

"Nyota, what do you know of Cadet Kirk's attempts at cheating?"

"If I tell you, you'll leave Gaila out of it?"

"I cannot guarantee that without knowing what you will say."

Her mouth hung open but she held her breath. She reached for her PADD and started trying to reach the transporter office. After an initial round of information exchange, Nyota's face soured.

"What do you mean you can't transport me out for 45 more minutes?" Nyota seethed. "I need to get out of here right _now_."

"Are you in immediate danger?" he heard the woman at the transporter office ask. "I can contact the authorities-"

" _No_ ," Nyota snapped. "I just-"

"Nyota, I wish to discuss this rationally," he urged.

"Just put me on the list," Nyota told the woman before ending the transmission and throwing her PADD in her bag.

"Nyota?"

"Spock, I'm too angry to talk right now."

"Your anger is illogical."

As it turned out, that was perhaps the worst statement he could have put forth in that moment. Her eyes flashed a brilliant shade of threatening fury and her mouth twisted into a snarl. He had seen her angry before. He had even seen her angry at him. But he had never encountered anger on a scale such as this. 

"You took things out of my mind that weren't _any_ of your business."

"I have not intentionally concealed anything from you."

"It shouldn't matter what _you_ would do! What happens between me and my best friend is none of your business!"

"I quite concur, and I ought to have asked your permission before melding with you. Prior consent does not guarantee future consent," he agreed. "Yet that does little to alter the fact that you withheld information from me that is pertinent to my career and the security of Starfleet Academy."

She scoffed. "It's like you're mad that I'm choosing to protect my friend over making _you_ happy. And I doubt that hacking the _Kobayashi Maru_ really makes a huge difference in Starfleet Academy security."

"I do not recall telling you it was the _Kobayashi Maru_ simulator that was hacked."

Her face turned even darker. "Now you're _interrogating_ me? Trying to get me to implicate myself or Gaila? You know _what_ , Spock-"

"I urge you to lower your voice," he interjected.

She took a ragged, shaking breath and stormed out of the bedroom. Spock debated whether he should follow her. As a child, he'd often witnessed his mother quarrel with his father, but he felt unprepared to manage the wrath of a human woman when it was directed at him. He also could not explain why Nyota was being so unreasonable. It _was_ a complicated situation, but she wouldn't even apprise him of all the relevant information.

He pulled on his trousers and joined her in the front room. She was sitting upright on his small sofa with her bag in her lap and a furious expression on her lovely face.

"I sense you have been under a considerable amount of emotional strain lately," Spock eventually said.

"What clued you in, _Sherlock_?" she snapped, hanging her head in her hands.

"Do you refer to the fictional British detective?"

Her fingers parted, revealing her left eye through her middle and ring fingers. " _Yes_ , Spock."

There was still a large degree of exasperation in her tone, but she was no longer yelling. He took several steps in her direction.

"I don't want to fight with you, Spock, but you _cannot_ ask me to choose sides," she groaned. "And I like mind melding with you when it's just a matter of sharing emotions, but to barge in on my _thoughts_? I had a feeling I shouldn't have come here tonight, but-"

Her next words were drowned out by the shriek of the building's emergency alarm. After three loud wails, an automated voice rang out through the loudspeaker. " _Warning, fire detected. Evacuate immediately… Warning, fire detected. Evacuate immediately.._."

Nyota's face visibly blanched a shade. She leapt to her feet and pulled her PADD from her bag, frantically trying to reach the transporter office. Spock quickly returned to his bedroom and grabbed his shirt from the floor. He could hear Nyota from the other room screaming, "Well now it _is_ an emergency!"

When he returned, he saw her clutching her PADD, eyes wide and hissing through her teeth. "They told me to evacuate the building! What are we going to do? It could be a false alarm, right?"

"Nyota, the emergency fire alarm only activates when the fire suppression system has failed to contain a fire. We must evacuate."

"What if someone sees?"

" _Warning, fire detected. Evacuate immediately…_ " The alarm insisted.

"It is likely someone _will_ see you, but if you do not evacuate of your own accord, the Academy's emergency services will likely evacuate you via transporter within the next few minutes and then the Academy will have a log of your presence in my quarters."

"Great, caught either way," she snapped, pacing back and forth.

"Nyota-"

"Ugh, let's just go. Put your shirt on, at least."

He pulled the heavy black garment over his head and made his way toward the door. He stuck his head into the hallway and saw nothing out of the ordinary – no flames, no chaos, not even another person. It was still early on a Friday evening near the end of the term and most of the faculty were likely either still at work or out for the night.

"Nyota, hurry. It may be possible for you to leave without being discovered."

She slinked into the hall and Spock headed for the stairwell door next to the turbolift.

" _Warning, fire detected. Evacuate immediately…_ "

"Maybe we should take the lift," Nyota said, pointing to the sliding double doors.

"It is not recommended in the event of a fire," Spock reminded her.

" _Everyone_ knows that," she snapped, pushing the call button to summon the lift to their level. "I'm _counting_ on it. If everyone else takes the stairs, maybe I have a better shot of getting out of here unseen-" The turbolift doors slid open and they were both greeted by Admiral Barnett.

His eyes darted from Spock to Nyota in apparent disbelief. The admiral cleared his throat and said, "You should probably board the lift, if you're going to."

Spock and Nyota both stepped inside and the admiral inched toward the wall to make room. Nyota stared at the floor with wide eyes. No one spoke.

As the lift shot down toward the ground level, Admiral Barnett finally asked, "Anyone care to tell me what a cadet is doing in faculty quarters?"

Nyota swallowed hard and was granted a short stay by the alarm's persistent warning. " _Warning, fire detected. Evacuate immediately…_ "

The turbolift doors glided open when they reached the ground level seconds later. "Please, after you," Admiral Barnett said, gesturing for Nyota to exit the lift first.

Spock followed her and the admiral trailed behind as they made their way to the nearest emergency exit. Several people burst through the stairwell door, including Lieutenant Bautista. The small group exited the building and crossed the street where approximately twenty other faculty members were waiting.

"Where's the staff duty officer?" Admiral Barnett shouted, looking around.

"Here, sir," Lieutenant Akamatsu said, raising her hand and turning back to say something into a communicator.

"Has everyone been evacuated and accounted for?" the admiral asked, storming in her direction.

Spock broke away from the admiral and turned toward Nyota, whom he discovered was whispering something to Lieutenant Bautista. Nyota was making a valiant attempt to keep her features calm and collected but was failing.

None of his other colleagues seemed to take much notice of Nyota, as they were too distracted with finding out what was going on or locating other colleagues whom they suspected might still be in the building. Suddenly, the exterior alarm fell silent.

Akamatsu stepped in front of the group, waving her hands to get everyone's attention and announced, "Turns out it was a false alarm. A glitch in the building's monitoring software. Sorry to disturb everyone on a Friday night, but I guess it's always good to practice fire drills, right?"

A few people grumbled and one person shouted from the back of the crowd, "So we can go back inside now?"

"Yes, please," Akamatsu replied, clasping her hands together.

Spock studied Akamatsu's face. For all her moral failings, she was talented with computers and was more than capable of hacking the system to initiate a fire alarm.

"Commander Spock and Cadet- I apologize, your name escapes me." Spock glanced over his shoulder to see Admiral Barnett standing just behind him between him and Nyota.

"Cadet Uhura, sir," Nyota squeaked, wheeling around on her heel and standing at attention for the commandant.

"Cadet Uhura. Ah yes, I recall pinning a Starfleet Commendation Medal on you some months back for the _Dalton II_ incident, but I've never had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. Usually that's good thing – it means you've never stood on the carpet in my office explaining poor decisions you've made. But I think I'd like to see you and Commander Spock in my office. I trust you can be there in uniform in thirty minutes?"

Nyota nodded numbly and mumbled, "Y-y-yes, sir."

"I take it you know where it is?" Admiral Barnett asked, looking back and forth between them.

"Aye, sir," they replied in unison.

"You're both dismissed," the admiral said, his tone suddenly shifting from casual to stern.

Admiral Barnett stalked off toward the front of the faculty building.

"Wh-what do we do?" Nyota muttered through her teeth, refusing to make eye contact.

"I suggest you don your dress uniform and make your way to Admiral Barnett's office," Spock replied.

"What are we supposed to _say_?" Nyota hissed.

He was about to answer her when he saw Lieutenant Akamatsu approaching in his periphery. "Just go," he said quietly. "I shall meet you there."

Spock turned on his heel and headed toward the side entrance without even acknowledging Akamatsu. Regardless of his snub, she called after him, "Sorry about your luck, Commander."


	28. Loud and Clear

Nyota was on autopilot. She shuffled up the stairs to her dorm room on trembling legs, her mind running all directions at once. The frustration of her first major fight with Spock had been dwarfed by the terror of being discovered in his quarters by the Academy Commandant. How could this have happened?

She entered her room in a daze and found Gaila lying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm thinking of breaking things off with Jim."

"Good for you," Nyota muttered, too jittery to really register Gaila's words.

"I think he found someone else. He barely returns my messages anymore."

Nyota scoffed but said nothing.

"Anyway _, you're_ back early," Gaila mused, turning on her side to face her.

Nyota swallowed hard and remained silent. She made her way to her closet to pull out her gray dress uniform; it didn't take someone with Gaila's powerful intuition to figure out something wasn't right.

"I take it you're not putting that on to go out drinking and dancing," Gaila said, sitting up and giving her a strange look. Gaila cocked her head and sighed. "You got caught, didn't you?"

Nyota's hands shook as she unfastened the buttons of her uniform jacket and started to change. She bit her lip to keep from crying but still couldn't bring herself to utter a word to Gaila.

"Nyota?"

"I have to be in Admiral Barnett's office in like 15 minutes so either help me or shut up," she snapped, not bothering to feel guilty in the moment for yelling at her roommate.

Gaila closed her mouth and nodded, springing from her bed to help Nyota straighten the insignia on her collar. Gaila darted into the lavatory and came back with a hairbrush and Nyota pulled her hair into a neat and professional bun, slid into her black dress shoes, and left without saying another word.

She wanted to be mad at Gaila for being the catalyst of her fight with Spock, but it wasn't exactly Gaila's fault. Was it _Kirk's_? Not really. She wanted to be mad at herself for going to Spock's that evening at all, but how was she supposed to know the fire alarm was going to go off? She and Spock had even agreed to take a break from dating until after she graduated just minutes before everything went down. It just wasn't _fair_.

She half-walked, half-jogged to the main building where Admiral Barnett's office was located. She saw several other cadets mulling around outside and enjoying the warm evening air as she navigated the maze of campus buildings. She knew the sight of her trotting along in her dress uniform was bound to raise some questions, but she had other problems to consider right then.

The overhead lights in the main building were dim and the halls were deserted. The moment her shoes made contact with the hard marble floor, she felt certain her heart would beat out of her chest. Where was Spock?

She straightened her uniform jacket, smoothed her hair with her hands, and proceeded to walk as normally as possible to Barnett's first floor office along the main corridor. The click of her shoes was deafening in the silence and Nyota decided it was time to start figuring out what she should say.

Confess to everything and accept her punishment? How much should she confess to? Just being in his quarters? Dating him? What was Spock going to admit to? He'd said Vulcans _could_ lie, but she doubted this counted as one of those times where it was logical. If Spock copped to everything and she denied everything, she would probably be punished worse for lying.

Did the commandant have evidence of their relationship beyond her presence in the faculty housing building? Could he access civilian transporter logs? Could he pull financial information and piece things together?

She didn't _think_ so. Besides, he was the Commandant of Starfleet Academy investigating possible fraternization, not a special agent from Federation Investigation Service looking into a murder. But even without a digital trail connecting her and Spock, there was always Lieutenant Akamatsu and her rumors. What if Admiral Barnett talked to other people? There was no way this could end well.

As she moved closer to his office door, the full gravity of her situation slammed into her like a garbage scow. She tasted bile at the back of her throat when images of losing her assignment to _Enterprise_ , being expelled from the Academy, and going home and having to explain it to her family started flashing through her mind.

How had she allowed herself to get caught up in all of this? Was Spock worth losing her career over? The rational part of her brain said no, but that other part, the part responsible for stomach butterflies and dopey involuntary smiles refused to accept that answer.

The worst part was, after their nasty argument about keeping their personal and professional lives separate – she had been in the right, there was no question about it – she had no idea how things stood between them. It seemed like things had been calming down and entering the apology and compromise phase when they'd been interrupted by the alarm. What if she got kicked out of Starfleet Academy _and_ Spock broke things off with her? Was she about to lose _everything_?

She choked down a wave of nausea and waited for Spock to arrive, but as the minutes ticked by with no sign of him, she grew anxious. She couldn't keep the Commandant waiting and surely it had already been more than half an hour. She took a deep breath, willed her hands to stop shaking, and then buzzed the comm on the Commandant's office door.

A voice crackled through the device on the wall and said, "I'll be with you shortly, Cadet Uhura."

All the work she'd put into mustering up the courage to enter the Commandant's office evaporated. She had a sneaking suspicion Spock was already in there, meaning there would be no time to get their stories straight. There were benches along the back wall but she didn't want to sit. She balled her hands into sweaty fists and started pacing up and down the hallway, trying to maintain an outward appearance of poise.

A short time later, the door to the Commandant's office opened, spilling light into the hallway. Spock appeared and she suddenly felt calm. She almost _smiled_ , even. He proceeded to walk in her direction without looking directly at her, but just as she was about to call out to him, Admiral Barnett emerged into the corridor.

"Care to join me, Cadet Uhura?" the admiral asked before ducking back into his office.

She took several cautious steps forward and right as Spock was about to pass her left shoulder, he met her gaze. She searched his face for some clue about what she was supposed to say to the Commandant, but saw nothing. His eyes were calm, but they always were. She had no way of knowing if Admiral Barnett had just thrown the book at him or dismissed it as a misunderstanding.

" _Spock_?" she mouthed.

He looked away and kept walking, but after several more steps, Nyota sensed that everything was going to be ok. Or maybe she'd just accepted her fate, she wasn't sure. But she felt completely at ease as she stepped into the Commandant's office.

She glanced around the room and decided it looked exactly like she imagined it would – large but not overly spacious with a minimalist desk sitting atop a light blue carpet in the likeness of the Federation flag. There were two chairs facing the desk, but Nyota understood she wasn't going to be invited to sit. This wasn't a social call.

She came to a stop about a meter away from the desk between the two chairs and stood at attention. Admiral Barnett leaned back in his chair and surveyed her uniform; she couldn't help but notice his eyes lingered on the commendation medal she'd received for her actions on the _Dalton II_.

"How are you this evening, cadet?"

His pleasant greeting almost caught her off-guard. Admiral Barnett had a reputation for being friendly, but he could also switch gears at the drop of a hat and become cold and serious. No matter what anyone thought of him though, everyone seemed to agree on the fact that he was fair.

She took a quick breath and replied, "To be honest, I'm a little nervous, sir."

"Do you have anything to be nervous about?" he asked, crossing his arms and leaning back still further in his chair.

His eyes were locked on hers and she was on the verge of feeling terrified all over again when she was struck by a sudden feeling of calm that almost bordered on delirium. When the words began to flow, they almost didn't feel like hers.

"If I may speak frankly, sir-"

"You may," he interrupted.

She nodded and continued. "I'm being accused of fraternization with Commander Spock, aren't I?"

"No one's accusing you of anything," he replied, waving his hand dismissively. "And before this conversation goes any further, I think I should probably tell you this isn't a formal hearing or investigation. _Yet_. I'm just trying to figure out if I need to open one. I prefer handling things at the lowest level possible, and seeing as how Personnel Resources reports to me anyway, I figured I'd just cut out the middle man in this case."

"I understand, sir."

"So even though there won't be any official log or report about the things we discuss in this office behind closed doors, I wouldn't recommend lying to me, cadet. Not to protect yourself but especially not to protect anyone else. Things will go a lot better if you're just honest. I believe in giving people the chance to own up to their mistakes and make them right, but when people try to cover them up because they're afraid of the consequences, there's almost no way to come back from that in my eyes. Do you understand?"

"I do, sir," she mumbled.

"Good. So I'm going to ask you this exactly one time and I'd like a straight answer: what were you doing in faculty quarters?"

Several seconds passed while Nyota struggled with two powerful internal forces: her instinct to follow rules and tell the truth… and something _else_. Why would she even _consider_ lying to him after he'd just gone out of his way to say he hated liars? It also occurred to her she'd been envisioning a worst-case scenario – if she confessed to violating the fraternization policy, she thought she would just be expelled without further consideration. But there were lesser punishments she could receive. Hadn't the policy referred to the possibility of a written warning or loss of privileges?

And yet, from somewhere deep within a part of her she didn't know existed, came the words, "I went to Commander Spock's quarters to get help with my senior thesis."

 _What_? Where had _that_ come from? The lie rolled off her tongue so smoothly that for a wild half-second, she almost thought it was the truth. She wanted to correct herself and say, "Commander Spock and I have been in a relationship for the past two and a half months," but she couldn't _un_ say the words she'd just uttered.

"Why not meet him in his office during regular duty hours? Or arrange to meet with him in a more appropriate setting?"

Without skipping a beat, her dishonesty muse replied, "I'm working on my senior thesis. Two weekends ago I picked up a signal in the long-range sensor lab but I only received a small portion of it before I lost it due to interference. My mom called."

She offered a weak smile, hoping the personal touch about her mother would make the story more believable. Not only that, it _was_ true. She just wasn't sure where she was going with it or how it related to being in Spock's quarters. Appropriately enough, Admiral Barnett asked, "And does Commander Spock have a long-range sensor array in his quarters I don't know about?"

"No sir. Earlier this evening I was going over my notes and thought the signal might be repetitive. I wanted to write a subroutine to see if I could analyze the partial signal and extrapolate the missing pieces, but I got impatient and excited and reached out to Commander Spock for help."

"And he's your advisor?"

"No sir, not anymore. He _was_ , but Lieutenant Bautista is now."

"So why wouldn't you ask her?"

"Commander Spock's area of expertise is computer science. When we were stranded together after the events of the _Dalton II_ , he helped me compile a program to selectively rotate through specific channels on the electromagnetic spectrum. I reached out to him and-"

She paused. Where was all this coming from? She'd never been a good liar – her face was too expressive – but it seemed to be coming so naturally. Was the Commandant buying it or was she digging herself into a deeper hole?

"You reached out to him and?" Admiral Barnett asked.

"And I asked if I could meet him in his office on Monday but he said he would be leaving for space dock to meet with the _Enterprise's_ captain. He invited me up to his quarters to talk about writing this program. Looking back on it _now_ , I realize that it probably looks really bad, but – and I don't say this to be offensive – but he's Commander _Spock_. I doubt he thought anyone would think- _I_ never thought anyone would think- it just didn't seem like a big deal. He was my instructor, you know? I didn't know the faculty quarters building was off-limits and I'm sure he didn't either, or else he wouldn't have invited me in the first place."

"They actually aren't off-limits," Admiral Barnett replied. "An oversight in the policy that probably needs to be amended."

A nervous twinge rippled through her belly as she started to suspect he was accepting this version of events. But what had Spock told him? Admiral Barnett's demeanor could be so unpredictable. Was he about to tell her that Spock just confessed to everything and he knew she was lying?

"Do you know why I instituted this fraternization policy?" he asked, his tone growing dark.

Nyota's heart skipped a beat as she wondered if this was the story of how her career was going to end before it even began. How had she come up with that crazy story? Of _course_ Spock had told the truth.

"I suppose for all the reasons you told us about during the briefing. Maintaining a professional environment and all. Sir."

"That is part of it," he confessed. "This policy was never about controlling anyone's behavior. Relationships between cadets and faculty members have probably always existed and for the most part, people kept things discreet and there were no real problems. It's the same out in the fleet. If it ever _did_ become a problem, we could handle it at a low level, discipline the individuals involved, and move forward without incident. But as more and more planets join the Federation and by extension, _Starfleet_ , we've been forced to consider how different cultures view romantic relationships within the education system. We have cadets and faculty from 41 different planets that range in age from 14 to 90. There was never going to be a policy that was going to please everyone, but in the end, we needed to draw a line for what was acceptable and what wasn't so that everyone was on the same page."

Nyota thought of Gaila and how difficult of an adjustment her first year at the Academy had been. Most of her problems had stemmed from how open Orion women were with their sexuality, which stood in stark contrast to humans and even starker contrast to Vulcans and Tellarites, who were about as Puritan as any species ever was. She'd never really thought about how difficult it had to be to develop policies for an organization with so many conflicting cultures.

"That makes sense, sir."

"That being said, I genuinely don't want to punish anybody for just having a consensual relationship. If there's no coercion or evidence of favoritism, I really would prefer not to make it any of my business. That's why the policy was written in a way that gave me wide latitude for making judgment calls as I saw fit. I want to be able to come down hard on faculty who abuse their position to prey on younger cadets, for example, but I don't really have much interest in targeting mature, consenting adults in the same manner."

Nyota held her breath. He was the Commandant; he certainly didn't need to explain himself to her. But something about his last sentence cast a whole new light on their meeting. It had never been about calling her down to his office to interrogate and scare her into admitting a relationship with Spock just so he could kick her out of the Academy – it had been about making sure Spock hadn't bullied her into a nonconsensual relationship.

She would have wondered what had happened to make Starfleet Academy write the fraternization policy in the first place, but her conscience was keeping her from focusing. She started to panic and felt the wild urge to spill everything once and for all, but before she could open her mouth, he continued.

"I've known Commander Spock a long time and I've never known him to be a liar. I doubt if Vulcans _can_ lie. In the end, I think very highly of Commander Spock and he seems to think very highly of you. Your stories add up, so I'm willing to write this off as a cultural misunderstanding and a little bit of poor judgment."

Nyota blinked, unable to process her disbelief or guilt. "Thank you, sir."

"Unless you're on staff duty, stay out of faculty quarters from now on, ok? And I don't want to see anything inappropriate or anything that even resembles the appearance of favoritism, do you understand, Cadet Uhura?"

"Aye sir."

"You're dismissed."

Nyota nodded, backed away from his desk, and wandered into the hallway in a daze. Where had she come up with a lie that somehow synced with Spock's version of events? She couldn't believe it. She also couldn't believe that Admiral Barnett had bought it; as she made her way out of the building, she started thinking about all the ways it could unravel.

She desperately wanted to call Spock, not only to discuss their fight, but also to figure out what their next move should be, but paranoia was never going to allow that to happen. What if they were monitoring her communications? That was ridiculous, but _what if_? But… could they do that?

She returned to her dorm room on some kind of homing instinct, almost surprising herself when she slid her keycard in the door. Gaila sat up from her bed and stared at her expectantly.

"How did it go?"

"I lied right to Admiral Barnett's face," she whispered, feeling ashamed. "I lied and he believed me."

" _What_?" Gaila gasped.

"I told him I went to Spock's quarters for help with my thesis and the Commandant believed me."

"Wait, I don't understand. You got caught in his quarters?"

It occurred to Nyota that Gaila didn't know the whole story, so she started from the beginning, telling Gaila about Lieutenant Akamatsu, her agreement with Spock to let things cool down until after graduation, the horrible timing of the fire alarm, and running into Admiral Barnett in the lift.

Gaila's face turned sour. "It was Akamatsu."

"What?"

"You said she's on staff-duty," Gaila explained. "She set the fire alarm off."

"Isn't that a _crime_? Besides, she couldn't have known I was in Spock's quarters."

Gaila frowned and looked away. "I don't know exactly _how_ she planned it all out, but she did it."

Nyota's face started growing hot; Gaila was so rarely wrong about these things. She tried to choke down her explosive rage but settled for ripping off her uniform and changing into running clothes. She needed a good, long run to clear her head.

"What did Commander Spock say about all this?" Gaila asked.

"I haven't talked to him since this all happened," she admitted. "We had a huge fight right before this all this went down."

"He'll get over it. He's logical."

Nyota slumped onto her bed to put on her running shoes. "I'm not so sure. The whole reason we were fighting kind of highlighted a serious issue in our relationship anyway."

" _Oh_?"

Nyota swallowed and looked down at her feet. Telling Gaila that Spock had found out Kirk cheated on the _Kobayashi Maru_ by mind melding with her and inadvertently discovering a conversation that she'd overheard between Gaila and Kirk in one of the labs would mean explaining that she'd been eavesdropping on Gaila in the first place. The look on Gaila's face was one of genuine concern, but Nyota wasn't interested in starting a fight with Gaila about Jim Kirk at that particular moment. She had plenty of other interpersonal problems to deal with.

"Can we talk about this later?" she sighed, leaping to her feet. "I just need to go for a run and collect my thoughts."

"Yeah, sure, if you want," Gaila shrugged. "I'll be here, when you're ready."

Nyota nodded, blinking tears out of her eyes. She ran and ran around the campus' inner track, and after her second lap, switched to the outer trail that went through the park. She ran until she was out of breath, and then she ran some more. Intense cramps in her legs and right side finally forced her to come to a stop halfway down the trail.

She bent over and rested her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath but finally feeling like she was about to be overcome by tears. When she stood up, stretched her arms above her head, and looked to her left, they started to flow freely.

She had stopped right across the street from the café she'd visited with Spock three months earlier. He'd had tea. She'd had hot chocolate. He'd paid for her drink, completely unaware that according to Gaila's checklist, that implied they were on a date. How innocent and oblivious they had both been back then.

 _Back then_. It had been just a little over three months ago, but it felt like so much longer. She wiped her eyes and trudged back to her dorm, hating herself for getting so emotional. For the past few months, life really felt like it had been beating her down and Spock had been the only bright spot in a sea of constant stress and frustration. Now he was only adding to her troubles.

She wanted to apologize for their fight – even though it had been his fault – and find a way to figure things out, but standing in the Commandant's office and telling giant lies was still too fresh in her mind. Nyota knew Spock wasn't angry – he was Vulcan after all – but maybe he was back in his quarters questioning the feasibility of continuing their relationship. Maybe he thought she was too emotional. Maybe he thought she wasn't worth risking his career over.

Gaila was gone by the time Nyota got back to the room at around 2100 hours. She had been half hoping, half dreading the thought that Spock had sent her a message telling her everything would be ok, but there was nothing. She flopped down on her bed and fell into the worst sleep she'd had in ages. She woke up periodically, once from a headache, once from a group of drunken cadets laughing outside her window, and once from a dream that Spock had broken up with her.

Anxious hours of waiting for something to happen – whether that was Admiral Barnett finding out she'd lied or Spock sending her a message – turned into days. Nyota found it hard to stay sane. She found herself wandering the corridor near Spock's office hoping to see him. Actually _talking_ to him seemed risky given Admiral Barnett's warning, but if she could just look him in the eye, surely that could give her some indication of where they stood.

But she heard from someone who heard from someone else that teaching assistants were teaching his classes for the rest of the week because Spock really _had_ gone up to space dock to visit the _Enterprise_. How had she known to say that to Admiral Barnett?

The only way she knew to distract herself was to throw herself into her studies. She was in the final stretch of four years of hard work, and given her recent reprieve from being expelled, she felt like she owed it to herself to finish strong. She spent all her free time preparing for her final physical fitness test, studying for her last round of exams, and putting the finishing touches on the last academic papers she would write as a cadet at Starfleet Academy.

Gaila had broken things off with Kirk and spent her evenings moping around in their room, which was uncharacteristic for her typically vivacious Orion roommate. Gaila had had _plenty_ of boyfriends and lovers during the past few years, but none that had actually reduced her to ice cream binging misery. Seeing just how much Gaila truly cared for Kirk just made her hate him even more when she thought about how obvious it was that Kirk had just been using her.

On Monday afternoon, she received a notification from the training office that James Kirk had requested her to serve as communications officer during another attempt at the _Kobayashi Maru_ simulator the following day. Her initial instinct was to send him a very choicely worded reply that insinuated all the orifices in which he could stuff his request, but she paused.

Gaila had told her during lunch that Spock was back to teaching his classes. If he had returned from his trip to _Enterprise_ and agreed to let Kirk have a third try at the simulation, surely he would be there to observe. And if Kirk had personally requested her as his communications officer, it would be a legitimate excuse to see Spock. Though she felt a bit uneasy about Spock's willingness to let Kirk have a third shot, particularly since he knew Kirk had cheated, she didn't hesitate to notify the training office that she would be there.

When her final class was done on that Monday afternoon, she made her way to the long-range sensor lab. She was still scanning for distant signals to demonstrate the functionality of her program, but hadn't hit on anything since that poorly timed transmission from her mother. Her senior thesis was due in exactly one week and was essentially finished anyway, so finding anything at that point probably wouldn't make a difference, but she didn't feel like being in her room.

Gaila was still mourning her breakup with Kirk, and given that she had a sneaking suspicion that Kirk was about to be exposed for the cheating fraud he was and Gaila had a knack for sniffing such things out, Nyota didn't want to needlessly upset her.

She powered on the arrays and leaned back in her chair. Ever since she'd intercepted that old, routine Romulan message the previous month, she'd trained her attentions to that region of space. Maybe she needed a change of scenery, so to speak.

" _I wonder what the Klingons are up to_ ," she murmured to herself, shifting the primary array to detect signals from that region of space.

For an hour there was nothing. She started to entertain herself by charting the Klingon star system using antiquated Doppler spectroscopy when the computer alerted her to an incoming signal. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she scrambled to adjust her earpiece and started running analyses of the phase, frequency, and amplitude modulation of the subspace carrier wave. She froze.

Then, clear as day, the computer locked onto the data and started converting the digital information to speech. There was no encryption. Furthermore, it was in _Klingon_. She began recording the transmission and started to tie in the universal translator but decided not to waste time on something she could do later. She wasn't prepared for this – she hadn't exactly been anticipating intercepting a Klingon signal on a random Monday evening on a standard channel in the basement of one of Starfleet Academy's labs.

Rather than bother with the UT, she trained her ear to the speech and started typing out an approximate translation. Her Klingon was far from perfect, but it was good enough to know this message wasn't old and it wasn't routine. It almost sounded like there was panic in the sender's voice. A distress call. Other voices rang out over the channel, interrupting her translation, but it sounded like they were in the middle of a battle.

Then the transmission ended abruptly. Nyota scrambled to get the signal back, but as far as she could tell, it had simply ended. She went back over her translation and replayed the snippet of the transmission she'd recorded several times, and though she was sure the grammar was a little rough and she wasn't sure how to translate certain words, the message was clear enough.

_"…of the Koraga. We have taken a direct hit to [stasis generator?]"_

_"Koraga. Identify attacker. Over."_

_"Attacker is Romulan [narada?] Location is 200,000 kellicams from Rura Penthe bearing 041-mark-79. What is current time to intercept?"_

_"Seven minutes… Koraga, respond."_

_"Klothos. Come about. Adjust fire. Battle plan seven in effect. Over."_

_"Koraga, respond."_

_"Gr'oth: this is the Klothos. The Koraga has been destroyed."_

_"Klothos, what is the current status of the [attack?] fleet in that [sector?]"_

_"45 birds-of-prey destroyed, including the Koraga. Our warp drive is disabled. Today is a good day to die."_

_"Klothos, what is your position?"_

_"Klothos, respond."_

_"Command post 7, this is the Gr'oth. Notify the Imperial High Command that we are entering firing range of-"_

That was where the transmission ended. Nyota's hands were shaking as her eyes scanned the message twice and then ran it through the universal translator. She had actually done a pretty decent translation, but even the UT didn't know what a narada was. A person? A terrorist organization? A ship? It wasn't a Klingon word, she was almost positive. Rura Penthe was the infamous Klingon prison colony on the outskirts of the Laurentian system.

45 birds-of-prey destroyed? Probably _47_ , if she included the _Klothos_ and the _Gr'oth_. From the tone of the transmission, it certainly sounded like they were gone. What could possibly wipe out an entire wing of the Klingon fleet? She almost didn't want to know.

She remembered how embarrassing it had been the month before, running to Starfleet operations with news of an intercepted Romulan message, only to have to turn out to be a routine transmission about charting a nebula that had occurred decades earlier. Everyone had essentially patted her on the head and told her she had a great ear for long-range detection, but she knew they'd all thought of her as an overeager, overachieving cadet. Maybe she had been. Maybe she still _was_.

But she knew in her gut that this intercepted message from the edge of the Laurentian system was not that. Something had destroyed 47 Klingon ships. Maybe Starfleet already knew and was looking into it, but she also understood just how vast space was and just how easy it was to overlook things. It was entirely possible she was the only person in the entire Federation who knew about this, and whatever had the power to destroy 47 Klingon warships could probably do serious damage to the Federation if it or they were so inclined.

She encrypted the data, transferred it to her PADD, shut down and secured the lab, and raced for the exit, dialing in a communications link to Lieutenant Bautista. She answered almost immediately.

"What is it, cadet? Finally ready to submit your thesis?"

"Ma'am, I've just intercepted a message from the Laurentian system. Can I meet with you in private?"

"Is it an emergency?" Bautista groaned.

" _Yes_ ," Nyota replied, almost shouting into her PADD.

"I'm in my office right now, but I was just getting ready to go home for the night."

Nyota thought about Admiral Barnett's warning to stay away from faculty quarters and winced. "Ma'am, this is extremely important. Can I meet you in your office?"

"It's not another Romulan survey report is it?" her advisor joked. "Maybe a Klingon fast food order?"

Nyota cringed. Apparently something in her face made Lieutenant Bautista change gears. "Sure, Cadet Uhura. I'll be waiting. When can you get here?"

Nyota figured if she sprinted, she could probably make it in about four minutes. "I'm coming from the long range sensor lab. I'll hurry."

She made it in three and a half. It took her a few seconds to catch her breath, and when she started playing the recording of the transmission and offered the translation, Lieutenant Bautista's face hardened.

"You're sure this is an accurate translation?"

"This is the version the universal translator gave, and it's almost dead on with how I translated it."

"And how long ago did you receive this?"

She checked the encoded timestamp of the file. "Nineteen minutes ago."

"And you managed to decrypt it?"

"No ma'am. It wasn't encrypted."

Bautista pursed her lips. Nyota knew she was trying to rule out any other reasonable explanation for why a Klingon ship would send a transmission like this. Had the _Koraga_ been participating in battle drill, it almost certainly would have encrypted the message to avoid confusion for the rest of the Klingon fleet, as well as anyone else who might be listening in, but genuine distress calls were almost never encrypted. There was no point in sending a distress call if the person on the other end had no idea what was being said.

Lieutenant Bautista read and re-read the translation, stopping several times to ask technical questions about how Nyota had detected it in the first place and whether or not she'd thought to check for things like signal degradation and interference. Eventually Nyota said, "Ma'am, I did everything by the book. I don't think this is a joke, a hoax, or a Klingon wargames scenario. Everything points to the idea that this transmission was received in real time. This _actually happened_ about twenty minutes ago. I know I was wrong about the Romulan message, but-"

"Alright," Bautista interrupted, rising to her feet. "Have you told anyone else about this?"

"No."

"Ok," Bautista nodded, walking over to the secure comm on the wall. She entered a series of numbers and after about thirty seconds, Admiral Barnett's face appeared.

"This better be important to be calling me in my private quarters after duty hours, lieutenant," he grumbled.

"It is, sir," Bautista replied. "I think one of my students may have inadvertently picked up some actionable intelligence."

"Come again?"

"A student of mine picked up a Klingon transmission in the long-range sensor lab. It sounds like something destroyed 47 Klingon birds-of-prey in the Laurentian sector about twenty minutes ago."

" _What_?!"

Within minutes, the intercepted message Nyota had detected was racing up the chain of command all the way to Starfleet Headquarters. Nyota wasn't privy to all the information being traded back and forth, but two things seemed certain: until she'd brought it to their attention, no one had any idea that the Klingon Imperial Fleet had 47 fewer ships than it had just an hour earlier, and they were taking it _very_ seriously.

It was 2300 hours when Lieutenant Bautista was summoned to go downtown with Admiral Barnett for a briefing. Nyota wanted to go with them, but she also understood how Starfleet rank and politics worked. The situation room would be full of admirals and captains, most of whom were more likely to be receptive to information delivered by the Commandant of Starfleet Academy and a lieutenant than from lowly Cadet Uhura.

She walked back to her dorm room in a fog, elated that she'd probably at least _partially_ redeemed herself in Admiral Barnett's eyes. She wanted to tell someone about this momentous news. She wanted someone to be proud of her. She already knew Lieutenant Bautista was, but that didn't feel like enough. She knew deep down that she wanted Spock to know that she'd done something right.

She was exhausted but too mentally keyed up to sleep. She was just thinking maybe a long, slow run would help take the edge off when she made it back to her dorm. The second the door slid open, she saw Gaila flip onto her side and grin widely.

"Hey," she mumbled.

"How are you?" Gaila asked, her tone tense.

Nyota started getting changed for her run and explained the wild night she'd just had when she caught a whiff of body odor. It smelled masculine and musky.

"So you're _not_ going back to the lab tonight?" Gaila mused, trying to sound casual but failing spectacularly.

Ever since she'd broken things off with Jim the week before, Gaila had been positively wretched. It was good to see her in a better mood, and even though Nyota had asked her not to bring guys back to the room a hundred times in their four years together as roommates, somehow, she didn't really mind this time. At this point, she was willing to overlook _anyone_ who could pull Gaila out of her funk.

Until she found out that person was James Kirk. The creep had been watching her _undress_. She kicked him out of the room without a second thought.

"You said you broke up!" Nyota snapped, turning her wrath on Gaila.

"He messaged me this afternoon and apologized for ignoring me. He's just been busy studying for finals."

"Yeah, looks like he's studying really hard," Nyota replied, rolling her eyes.

"Is there _anything_ Jim could do that would make you _not_ hate him?" Gaila huffed.

"Is there anything I could say that would make you believe me when I say he's using you?" she retorted.

"You keep saying that, but he doesn't come around just for sex! Why do you have to be so mean to him? I've never treated any of your boyfriends this way."

Nyota clenched her teeth, mentally preparing a list of reasons why Jim Kirk wasn't worth Gaila's time, but she stopped herself. "I really don't feel like fighting with you right now."

"Me either," Gaila said, springing off the bed and rushing to dress herself.

"Where are you going?" Nyota moaned.

" _Out_ ," Gaila grumbled. "This is my room too, you know. But I don't feel welcome here. Not if my boyfriend isn't."

Nyota refused to give in to a guilt trip. "Fine then. See you when you get back."

Gaila rolled her eyes and stormed out, presumably to find Jim Kirk so they could torment whomever _his_ roommate was with another round of noisy lovemaking. Nyota lay back on her bed, feeling more anxious than ever.

Rather than focus on her massive array of interpersonal problems with pretty much everyone she was close to, she chose to think about the message she'd just intercepted. The Klingons weren't friends of the Federation, but she thought about the message's contents.

" _Today is a good day to die_ ," someone on the _Klothos_ had said, moments before its destruction.

Thousands of Klingons had died a short time ago and she'd listened as it had unfolded. It was one thing to read about Klingon notions of honor and bravery and another thing to witness them firsthand.

She suddenly remembered the word "narada" and decided to look it up in the paperbound dictionary her mother had given her. The universal translator hadn't known it, but maybe it hadn't understood the context. The UT was better with some languages than others, and though it seemed to have a pretty solid grasp of Klingon in her experience, it still wasn't _perfect_.

She shuffled around in her nightstand for the book and the moment she pulled it from its hiding place, it fell open to the page where she'd pressed a purple chrysanthemum flower several months ago. She gently fingered the brittle leaves and thought of Spock.

She could tell herself she didn't miss him, but that was a lie. She needed him in her life to balance her and in that moment, she felt like she needed him more than ever. She frowned and wondered if there would ever be an occasion for him to need her in the same way. She seriously doubted it.


	29. Come What May

Spock gazed out the small portal and watched Earth grow bigger as they approached. He'd visited _Enterprise_ on short notice under the pretense of moving some of his personal items to the assigned first officer's quarters and meeting some of the incoming senior staff who were already aboard. Captain Pike had introduced him to the chief medical officer Dr. Puri, and he'd worked with the chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Argyle, at the Alpha Centauri research station.

He had other motives for his trip to _Enterprise_. It had been necessary to put distance between himself and Nyota – this visit to space dock had been part of the lie he'd told the Commandant. It had been a week since he'd last seen Nyota wandering toward Admiral Barnett's office, a week since the Commandant's orders to break off any non-professional contact with her to "avoid the appearance of favoritism." He recalled the incident with perfect clarity. Anxiety had been pouring off of her in waves as they'd passed each other. It had been difficult to suppress his own anxiety.

His decision to lie to Admiral Barnett had begun as a vague idea he'd detected in Nyota's subconscious during one of their last melds. She was terrified of having their relationship discovered, and whether or not she knew it, she was prepared to lie if she thought she could get away with it.

Vulcans disliked untruths, of course. Lying was illogical under most circumstances, and it would have been more morally praiseworthy to accept responsibility for his actions, and yet… the policy itself was not entirely logical. He could appreciate Admiral Barnett's desire to codify a minimum standard of behavior at an institution with so many differing cultures and protect cadets from exploitation, but he and Nyota had mutually consented to an intimate relationship.

Though their relationship was intimate, it wasn't _permanent_. They weren't formally bonded and didn't maintain a lasting telepathic mating bond, but sustained mind melds often led to lingering telepathic connections that could endure without physical contact. There were occasions after touching her mind that he could nearly sense her moods or detect fleeting glimpses of her thoughts.

So it had been a huge gamble. He had fabricated a story about helping Nyota with her thesis rather than admitting to inviting her into his quarters for more private reasons, and then after Barnett had dismissed him, he'd retreated to the lavatory in the main building and put himself in a nearly catatonic state trying to reach her mind without physically touching her. It would be illogical to conclude his plan had worked simply based on the fact that he hadn't heard from either Admiral Barnett or Nyota since that night, but the longer he went without news, the more likely it seemed that Admiral Barnett had accepted his version of events.

Yet his mind was still troubled. The lingering telepathic link between them had faded quickly with time and distance. He longed for Nyota's company and he disliked not knowing whether or not she still wished to maintain a romantic relationship with him. They'd come to a mutual agreement to discontinue their private meetings until after she graduated, but that had been made prior to her furious outburst over his violation of her privacy.

He regretted taking the liberty of exploring her conscious mind, but he could not alter the past. The only difficulty now was deciding how to proceed with the information he'd inadvertently received from her.

Nyota was angry, and pursuing action against Cadet Gaila based on the information he'd taken from her without her consent would not only anger her further, it would be a violation of his personal ethics. Yet overlooking the fact that the _Kobayashi Maru_ was hacked would be a violation of both his personal ethics and the Academy's policies. That was why he was glad he'd received Cadet Kirk's missive just an hour ago.

Spock pulled his eyes away from Earth's thermosphere and focused on the message on his PADD.

_Commander Spock,_

_The training office said they would only schedule a third attempt at the Kobayashi Maru if you signed off on it. I've attached the necessary file for your signature. Thank you for this opportunity._

_Respectfully,  
James Kirk_

He had told Kirk to go to the training office and set up a time to take the simulator but he hadn't heard back until now. He scanned the document Kirk had forwarded from the training office but wasn't willing to sign it. _Yet_.

Now that he knew Gaila had been involved in assisting Kirk in cheating, he thought of the file protections and locking subroutines Nowak and Maloney had installed and the monitoring subroutine he'd hidden in the program's graphics module. He wasn't certain how much Gaila knew about the measures he'd taken to prevent and detect another hack.

The shuttle landed at the Academy's dock on the south end of campus just fifteen minutes later and Spock quickly made his way to the Tarkington building and got to work. He ran a diagnostic on the program's code and confirmed it hadn't been tampered with since Nowak, Maloney, Chekov, and Gaila had fixed it.

He then made a copy of the files, backed them up on the secondary server, and sent a record of it to the information security office. He made a second copy and got to work removing all of the layers of protections he, Nowak, and Maloney had added, and then studied the code for approximately half an hour before he decided on the most logical course of action.

He simplified his original monitoring subroutine to detect any alterations to the code and nested it within the program's annotated footnotes. He spent several hours testing the program, going through multiple scenarios in an attempt to beat the simulation, but the _Kobayashi Maru_ functioned as it was supposed to, and he failed every single time.

He left the observation deck and signed the document Cadet Kirk had forwarded from the training office. Within ten minutes, he received a notification that Kirk's third attempt was scheduled for tomorrow at 1000 hours.

Spock was mildly surprised when he returned to the _Kobayashi Maru_ observation deck early the next morning to find his code remained intact. He ran two diagnostics and even scanned vulnerable sections by eye. No one had tampered with it. He ran through the simulator three times and it appeared to be working normally. Spock began to wonder if he'd made an error in logic in suspecting James Kirk of academic dishonesty.

He heard the door open and a male voice say, "Good morning, sir."

He swiveled in his chair to find Lieutenant Ocampo, the senior training administrator, standing in the entryway.

"Lieutenant," Spock replied.

"Is everything working ok? The training office said this sim was supposed to be down until the next term."

"Everything appears to be in order," Spock answered.

"Good then. You know, I was really surprised when I got the order from the training office that someone needed to run it this late in the term. When I saw the name, I couldn't believe it. Did you know this is Cadet Kirk's third try?"

"Yes."

"Any ideas on why someone would sign up to do this three times? Half the cadets who take this sim are vomiting in the hallway beforehand because they've never failed at something. I've never seen anything like this."

Spock glanced at Lieutenant Ocampo. "It would be illogical to speculate about Cadet Kirk's motivation for requesting multiple attempts at this simulation."

Ocampo gave him a lazy nod. "Well, I'm gonna go grab some coffee before it starts. Oh, and it's early, but cadets are already starting to show up. You mind if I let them in the sim or should I have them wait outside until you're ready?"

"They may enter."

Ocampo backed out of the doorway, closing the door behind him. He noticed a shift in his thoughts and moments later, the lights came on in the lower level and Spock caught sight a lone individual in a fitted gray flight suit stroll onto the bridge of the room below. _Nyota_.

She drifted into the room, her idle hands playing over the surfaces of the various stations as she made her way to the comm position. He meant to resume monitoring the program after Ocampo's departure, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. Spock had no idea how much he'd missed her company until just now.

Her eyes flicked upward and immediately locked onto his face. She jumped a little, evidently surprised to find him watching her. The muscles around her eyes and mouth twitched in a display of immediate recognition, fleeting happiness, and then prolonged worry.

Her lips formed a single rounded syllable. " _Hi_." Because of the thick window, he wasn't certain if she spoke the word aloud or merely shaped it with her mouth. It would be illogical to respond when she could not hear, so he raised his right hand and pressed his fingertips to the glass. He got a fleeting impression that she missed him terribly, but perhaps those were his own feelings. He swallowed hard and attempted to subdue them.

She started to say something else, but whipped around a fraction of a second later when another dark-haired female cadet came on the bridge. Nyota put her hands on her hips and waved at her and Spock returned to his chair along the back wall of the observation deck, toggling the button to engage the room's comm system to be able to hear the conversation on the bridge below.

"Congratulations on getting the _Enterprise_ assignment," the other female cadet told Nyota. "I'd kill to be in your shoes come next month."

"Yeah, thanks. Do you know where you're going?"

"You're looking at Starbase 19's newest logistics officer."

"Congratulations."

"Captain on the bridge," called a male voice.

"Come on, Jim, don't you think you're taking this a little too far?" barked a second man with an unusually slurred accent.

"What's going on, Jim?" asked the female, the pitch of her voice suddenly shifting.

"Not too much Jill," the man she'd called Jim cooed. "You're looking good as always."

"Oh _stop_ ," the woman laughed.

Spock flipped on the monitor to his left and powered on the four cameras mounted on the ceiling of the bridge. Nyota was sitting at the communications station with her arms crossed, the dark-haired female cadet was leaning suggestively over the back of the captain's chair, James Kirk was polishing an apple on the front of his flight suit, and another male cadet with dark hair neatly parted to the side stood just behind him.

"And how about you, Uhura, no-first-name?"

"I'm here to watch you embarrass yourself, not make conversation."

"Glad you could make it," the blond man winked, waving his arms and flopping down in the central captain's chair. Spock recognized him as James Kirk from his official Academy photo, recalling the time he'd spent reviewing Cadet Kirk's performance records when evaluating graduating seniors for assignment to _Enterprise_ at Captain Pike's request.

The others had addressed him as Jim, and knowing humans were in the habit of nonsensically shortening names, it was reasonable to conclude Jim might be a diminutive for James. Spock observed the camera monitor in fascination, watching Jim or James or Cadet Kirk or however he preferred to refer to himself set a red apple on the armrest of the chair and twirl it in circles by its narrow stem. Three other cadets wandered onto the bridge and made their way to their seats.

"Why don't you get settled in, Bones?" Jim grinned, swiveling back and forth in his chair and raising his eyebrows at the dark-haired man who'd come in with him.

"I still don't know why you wanted me to be here, and to serve as your tactical officer no less. I'm a doctor, not General Patton."

"You're gonna be great, I just have a feeling," Kirk beamed.

Spock disengaged the comm switch, pulled his eyes away from the monitor, and checked the _Kobayashi Maru_ 's code again. It had not been changed since his alterations the day before; he was certain.

He heard the door slide open. "How's it going, Commander?"

He glanced over his shoulder to see Lieutenant Nowak. "I saw Lieutenant Ocampo in the hall and he said someone was getting ready to run this simulator for the third time. Mind if I stay and watch? I'm interested to see how those updates we put in work out."

"You are welcome to join us," Spock replied.

Minutes later, the rest of the cadets arrived and made their way to their stations. Lieutenant Ocampo returned with a large mug of steaming liquid and sat down at the command console to enter some administrative data. When he was done, he turned to Spock and asked, "Is everything good?"

"Everything appears to be in order," Spock replied.

Ocampo toggled the comm switch and said, "Good morning, cadets. The simulation will begin in exactly one minute. Please take your stations. Good luck."

The test got underway and Spock turned his attention back to the simulator's source code. He sensed something was amiss, but he had no reasonable basis for such a notion. Other species would call it intuition perhaps, but to Spock, it was an illogical nuisance. Though there was some evidence that Cadet Kirk had sabotaged the _Kobayashi Maru_ during his second attempt, it remained entirely circumstantial.

Spock started to repress a number of subtle feelings ranging from irritation to embarrassment. There was absolutely _nothing_ to indicate Kirk had done anything to gain an advantage on today's test. Had Spock judged the situation incorrectly? Had he acted irrationally in setting a trap for Kirk to implicate himself during his third attempt?

He was in the middle of silently reviewing the facts when he heard Lieutenant Nowak ask, "Did he say 'don't worry about it?'"

"Is he not taking this simulation seriously?" Ocampo added.

Several seconds later, Spock saw red lights flashing down below, indicating the cadets were at red alert.

Nowak scowled and asked more loudly, "Why is this kid even wasting our time if-"

He stopped mid-sentence when the lights flickered and the red alert siren stopped. The other people on the observation deck started exchanging nervous glances. "What is this? What's going on?" Ocampo asked. Spock didn't know.

After several agonizing moments, power was fully restored. Spock rose to his feet and took several steps toward the observation deck window. Twenty seconds later, the scenario ended when Kirk managed to target each of the D7 Klingon attack cruisers with a single photon torpedo. Spock's eyes narrowed reflexively.

"How the hell did that kid beat your test?" Nowak asked, looking over his shoulder to Spock.

"I do not know," Spock admitted. But he vowed to find out.

And he did. It was Friday evening by the time he finished piecing together his report for the Commandant. It had taken longer than he'd expected to trace the temporary subroutine Kirk had uploaded into the program via Cadet Gaila's messenger account. Kirk had shown masterful ingenuity, both in writing the subroutine and inserting it into the simulator's code.

Kirk had encrypted the subroutine he'd used to hack the _Kobayashi Maru_ and hidden it within a computer virus attached to a short video message he'd sent to Cadet Gaila on Monday night. The moment the simulator had come online Tuesday morning, Gaila's account remotely delivered the subroutine and then deleted it once the simulation was complete.

Kirk had done a remarkable job of concealing his actions, but he evidently hadn't counted on Spock monitoring the program in real time and maintaining a continuous log while the simulator was running. It took several hours to locate the subroutine from historical data, and once he'd found it, he'd worked closely with the Information Security Office and traced the subroutine back to Gaila's account, and eventually, to Kirk's.

He could not verify that Cadet Gaila had _knowingly_ acted on Kirk's behalf, but there was good reason to believe she hadn't. He'd pulled Gaila's student records and conferred with several members of the faculty before determining she had been in the midst of an Interspecies Ethics exam and without access to the Academy network while the simulation had taken place.

He signed his report and sent it to Admiral Barnett. Spock did not have irrefutable proof Kirk had cheated, but between the logs, the data from the Information Security Office, and the eyewitness accounts of the glitches during the test, he had a very compelling case. Spock wondered what Nyota would say.

He hadn't seen her since just before the simulation had begun on Tuesday. Would she be angry that he'd still pursed an academic dishonesty case against James Kirk? She certainly didn't seem to care for Kirk very much. What was it she had said? He deserved to get knocked down a peg?

He doubted Nyota would concern herself with Kirk's ultimate fate, but Spock couldn't guarantee that Gaila would walk away from this experience unscathed. He had been careful in his report to express his doubts that Gaila had deliberately assisted in sabotaging the simulator, but his report only contained enough preliminary evidence to warrant an investigation. He could not control what the investigation would uncover.

So he had not used the information he'd unintentionally obtained from Nyota to make his case, but he wondered whether that point of difference would matter to her. He closed his eyes and recalled her face, replaying the memory of her expressions as he'd watched her from the observation deck.

When he reopened them, he realized he was facing his planning board, the place where he'd struggled to tease apart human courtship rituals into a detailed flowchart just three months ago. An algorithm for managing relationship problems in the context of professional situations would be immensely useful, but he didn't even know where to begin.

He rose to his feet, preparing to change out of his uniform into meditation robes and attempt to purge the powerful emotions regarding Nyota from his psyche, but he had barely left the front room when he heard his PADD ding. A new message from Admiral Barnett.

_Commander Spock,_

_I've reviewed your report and find it very concerning. Please report to my office at 0845 hours Monday morning._

_Rear Admiral Richard Barnett  
Commandant – Starfleet Academy_

He spent much of the rest of his weekend drifting between sleep and meditation, trying to suppress the longing he felt for Nyota. He rationally understood their separation was temporary and she would graduate in a matter of weeks, but an unresolved disagreement existed between them.

Spock had been unaware how lonely he was until she'd become a fixture in his life and now that she was gone, her absence troubled him. He enjoyed their conversations. Her curiosity and forceful personality captivated him and left him wanting more. His hunger for her body was supremely difficult to control. He craved her, mind, body, and spirit, but he was apart from her.

He had just managed to achieve proper emotional balance when Monday morning arrived. He dressed in his standard black utility uniform, shaved and trimmed his hair, and set off for the Commandant's office at 0830 hours. An unseasonal misty drizzle blanketed the campus, casting an eerie glow over the scene. He arrived at the admiral's door at precisely 0845, knocked, and was told to enter.

Spock found the admiral reading a communiqué on his classified briefing monitor. His eyes flicked in Spock's direction. "Good morning, Commander."

"Sir, I am reporting as ordered."

"Yes, have a seat," Barnett said, nodding to one of the two chairs sitting across from his desk and slowly tearing himself away from the classified monitor to face Spock. Spock took a seat and gently placed his hands on his knees.

"I received your report on the _Kobayashi Maru_ ," the admiral said. "I've never been a big fan of cheaters, but I have even bigger concerns about someone hacking our computer system to do it. That would be a violation of not only Academy policy, but of regulation 17.43 of the Starfleet Code. I forwarded your report to Starfleet's Ethics and Integrity Council and they've agreed to hold a public inquiry into Cadet Kirk's actions this afternoon."

A buzzer sounded and the admiral toggled a button on his desk. "One moment, cadet."

"Is there anything you require of me, sir?"

"I intend to speak with Cadet Gaila as well. Your report implies she might have been an unknowing third party."

"As I stated in my report, I am not certain to what extent Cadet Gaila was involved."

"I trust your judgment, Commander. If need be, the council can investigate them both, but I'm willing to give Cadet Gaila the benefit of your doubt. She's waiting outside and I would like you to stay while I ask her some questions. Your computing experience may come in handy."

"Certainly, sir." Spock wondered how much of the admiral's request genuinely stemmed from Spock's expertise with computers and how much was due to Cadet Gaila's Orion physiology. The admiral was wise to take precautions against Orion pheromones.

Barnett hit a different button and the door glided open, revealing the vivacious Orion cadet. She wore a nervous smile that faded slightly when she saw Spock.

"Admiral," she said deferentially, reporting in the customary manner.

"Cadet Gaila," Admiral Barnett said, gesturing to the empty chair next to Spock. "Please have a seat."

She slid into the hard, empty chair across from the wide desk and gave a pained smile.

"Before we begin, I'll say that this is not a disciplinary hearing," the admiral said. "But you may want to consider your answers carefully."

She nodded and said, "Yes, sir."

"Cadet Gaila, did you install a subroutine into the _Kobayashi Maru_ simulator for the purpose of cheating or assisting others to cheat?" Barnett asked.

"Look, I- _what_?" she yelped, clearly caught off guard.

"Cadet?" Admiral Barnett probed.

"I'm being accused of installing a subroutine in one of the command track simulators?" she croaked.

"Yes, specifically the _Kobayashi Maru,_ " Barnett clarified.

"I worked on the simulator when it went down a few months ago, that's a matter of record, but I haven't had access to it in weeks. How would I have installed a subroutine without anyone noticing?"

"It took time to trace, but it was delivered to the _Kobayashi Maru_ simulator via a virus sent from your academic account," Spock explained.

Her mouth drifted open and she looked back and forth between Spock and Barnett.

"Did you install the subroutine?" Spock asked again.

" _No_!" she blurted.

"Did you allow someone else to access your account?"

Her face darkened. She didn't reply right away, but when she finally did answer the question, all she said was, "No."

"Cadet, I will remind you that the penalty for academic dishonesty may include expulsion from Starfleet Academy," Admiral Barnett added.

She shot Spock a serious look and replied, "I thought there were severe penalties for a _lot_ of things at Starfleet Academy."

The moment the words escaped her mouth, her complexion blanched into a greenish yellow color. Spock arched an eyebrow. The tone of her voice suggested she was threatening him, but to threaten to expose his relationship with Nyota would also threaten Nyota.

"Look, I _swear_ I did not intentionally install a subroutine," Gaila stammered, shifting in her seat. "If it came through my messages, it wasn't from a message that _I_ sent."

Admiral Barnett rubbed his temples and shook his head. Spock suspected Gaila's pheromones were beginning to affect him, but he also understood Orion females often involuntarily released a number of chemical signals under duress. He also knew Orion women were capable of extraordinary emotional manipulation to accomplish goals, but he sensed Gaila wasn't currently putting those talents to use. Spock wasn't the best judge, but the tone of her voice and the expressions on her face indicated she was sincere. 

"The virus was sent on Monday night in a message attacked to a personal video," Spock said. "Do you know to which video I refer?"

She turned her head and looked him straight in the eyes, but her eyes began to become unfocused and her chin quivered. "That can't be right."

"Cadet Gaila, being completely honest with us is your best chance for avoiding or limiting punishment. If this really wasn't your fault, now is the time to tell us. Protecting this person or these people will only make things worse for you."

"But you already know, don't you?" she muttered, her voice cracking.

"Know what?" Barnett asked.

"You know who sent the message. If you know it was a message sent in a video on Monday, you must have gotten that information from the ISO and if you have that information, you also know who sent it. You just want me to say the name."

"I want you to be forthcoming with me. Making me squeeze the information out of you makes you look complicit."

"If it was a video message sent Monday night to my student account, it was Jim Kirk," said sighed, hanging her head in her hands.

"Do you have any idea why he might have done this?" Barnett inquired.

"How could I have been so stupid?" she mumbled, her voice barely audible over her shallow breaths.

"What was that?" Barnett asked.

"I think he wanted to beat the _Kobayashi Maru_ ," Gaila squeaked. "He wanted to be the first person to do it. He talked about it all the time."

"But – and correct me if I'm wrong, Commander Spock – the code for the training simulators isn't available on the Academy's open servers. How would Cadet Kirk have gotten access to the code to know how to design a subroutine in the first place?"

"He asked if he could see the simulator one night after hours while I was working in the lab," Gaila said, swallowing and gazing at the floor. "I didn't think it would be a big deal, so I let him in."

"And was Cadet Kirk given authorization to be in the simulator?" Barnett asked, looking to Spock.

"No," Spock replied.

"So why did you allow Cadet Kirk access?"

"Please don't ask me to go into details," Gaila begged.

"Admiral, I believe Cadet Gaila has given a sufficient amount of information to move forward in your investigation of Cadet Kirk," Spock said.

"So if I understand you correctly, you're claiming you had no idea Cadet Kirk attempted to hack the simulator by sending a virus to your student account, but you knowingly violated Academy policy by allowing him access to an area he lacked credentials to enter?"

Gaila bobbed her head and mumbled, "Yes, sir."

"Is there _anything_ else you want to add?"

"I didn't think- it was never- I'm so sorry," she said, sniffing and wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "I had no idea he was going to do this. If I had _known_ , I..."

"I appreciate your honesty, cadet, but unfortunately, I can't just let this go. I see from your service record you've never had any major disciplinary infractions, so I feel compelled to give you a chance to learn your lesson. So as of right now, I'm revoking your lab and computer access until you complete remedial training on information security. I'm also inclined to give you a month's worth of extra duty, but you'll graduate before you finish it, so consider yourself on extra duty until graduation day. You are to report to staff duty every evening between 1800 and 2100 hours and complete whatever tasks they assign you. I'm also ordering you not to speak of this meeting to anyone. Do you understand?"

She inhaled sharply and nodded. "Is there anything else, sir?"

"No cadet, you're dismissed."

Her punishment was remarkably lenient for what it might have been. The Commandant was well within his authority to expel Cadet Gaila for allowing Kirk unauthorized entry into the training simulator and by extension, the Academy's servers. Spock waited until he heard the door shut behind her before asking, "Do you require anything else from me, admiral?"

"I'm going to notify the council that there is sufficient evidence to proceed to a hearing. They had already tentatively scheduled one for today at 1600 hours in the main assembly hall. You might want to be prepared to testify. I'll also notify Lieutenants Nowak and Ocampo that they might be asked to give a statement. I'm sorry it's come to this. You're dismissed, Commander."

The remainder of the morning passed by quickly. His mind stayed engaged giving his morning lectures. At 1300, he received an official notification to meet in the Academy's assembly hall at 1600 hours, and he spent the next several hours overhearing rumors about why the Commandant had called a briefing on such short notice.

Theories ranged from the benign, such as a promotion or retirement ceremony, to the truly absurd. He'd heard two second year cadets in the main hallway of the Carrey building telling a group of first year students that Admiral Barnett was organizing a task force to patrol the streets to isolate subversive replicants. Dozens of his students and a handful of his colleagues asked if he knew what it was about, but he informed them he was not at liberty to discuss it and logically reminded them that they would find out at 1600 regardless.

It was 1530 when he secured his office and made his way across campus to the assembly hall in the main building. There was heavy foot traffic moving in that direction, and as he turned left past the J'halil Center, he sensed a tingling in his consciousness.

Moments later, he spied Nyota walking next to Gaila and two other female cadets several meters ahead. He had sensed her presence. His mind had known she was there before his senses could tell him so. In hindsight, a similar instance had occurred moments before she'd entered the _Kobayashi Maru_ bridge on Monday. _Fascinating_.

He had already accepted they'd formed an informal empathic bond from their frequent meetings, mind melds, and sexual encounters. It was the only explanation for how he'd been able to reach her mind without physical contact two weeks earlier when they'd been summoned to the Commandant's office.

"You have _got_ to tell me what's up," Nyota said, canting her head in Gaila's direction.

"I told you I can't talk about it," Gaila insisted.

"You make it sound like it's an order from the Commandant or something," Nyota scowled.

"It _is_."

" _What_?" Nyota and the two other female cadets gasped in unison. "Does it have anything to do with this mysterious briefing we're going to?"

"I don't know," Gaila barked.

"You have to know _something_ ," Nyota whined, glaring at Gaila. She'd turned her head just enough to finally catch sight of Spock, and the moment she detected his presence, an involuntary smile appeared at the corners of her lips.

He attempted to project his mind toward hers and reach her telepathically without initiating contact through a mind meld – the distance between them was small and she was wholly focused on him – but there were also a huge number of distractions in the form of dozens of students swarming around them as they made their way to the assembly hall. It would have been simpler if they shared a formal mating bond or if he were a trained kolinahr master, but Spock had very little experience with non-psionic telepathic contact.

He imagined he could detect glimmers of her thoughts but nothing more. He vaguely understood she was both happy and anxious, but he could not be more certain than that. The harder he focused, the less clear his mind became. He abandoned his efforts once they entered the main building.

The hearing began fifteen minutes later, but was interrupted shortly thereafter when Admiral Barnett received an emergency communiqué of significant importance to not only Starfleet and the Federation, but also Spock _personally_.

Vulcan had sent a distress call. Never in the entire history of the Federation had a planet-wide distress call been issued. It was highly irregular and though worry was illogical – particularly when he lacked any concrete facts – he could not suppress his concern.

As the cadets made their way to Hangar 1 on Admiral Barnett's orders, the faculty were ushered into the rear briefing room to begin organizing a hasty deployment of available resources. The primary Alpha Quadrant fleet had been mobilized to respond to a classified emergency in the Laurentian system four days earlier, leaving only nine vessels ready to respond to this threat – the _Antares_ , _Walcott_ , _Farragut_ , _Hood_ , _Newton_ , _Armstrong_ , _Mayflower_ , _Truman_ , and _Enterprise_.

The _Antares_ , _Farragut_ , _Armstrong_ , and _Mayflower_ were all in space dock for extensive repairs and upgrades but were deemed operational for this emergency. Unfortunately, the crews of those four ships were only operating at 30 percent strength during their refits. The _Truman_ and _Enterprise_ were newly built ships awaiting a formal commissioning ceremony and were similarly lacking sufficient personnel to operate effectively. Therefore, six of the nine ships would rely heavily on auxiliary support from Starfleet Academy faculty and inexperienced cadets.

It fell to Spock to work with Admiral Lui to begin assigning cadets to fill the gaps. Current orders were to have all nine ships ready to deploy within the next four hours – a timeframe he estimated had less than an 8.7% chance of being met at current operational speeds. No further intelligence had come in regarding the reason for Vulcan's distress call, a fact that troubled him.

He decided to attempt to make contact with his mother at the earliest available opportunity, but it never came. He was too busy sorting thousands of cadets by area of concentration, years of service, and relevant civilian experience and adding their names to temporary assignment rosters.

"I need at least four more semi-competent warp field engineers and two fully certified helmsmen," Admiral Lui barked, snapping her fingers.

"There are currently fourteen fourth year warp field engineers with adequate or above ratings," Spock replied, turning his monitor to face her.

Admiral Lui tapped the screen to sort them by grade point average and sighed. She rolled her eyes and said, "Congratulations to Cadets Monroe, Zhao, Simpson, and Akawa on their promotion to lieutenant and assistant engineer."

"I would also recommend Cadets Jindal and Sulu to fill the vacant helmsman slots," Spock replied.

"Works for me. They're needed on the _Antares_ and _Enterprise_. I don't care who goes where. Remember, these are temporary promotions and assignments that are only going to last the duration of this mobilization."

"I am aware, ma'am," Spock replied.

"Any chance you'd be interested in serving as my first officer?" Admiral Lui asked. "I've been asked to take command of the _Farragut_."

"Unfortunately, I cannot accept your offer. I have already been officially assigned to _Enterprise_ and Captain Pike has insisted I join him for this mission."

"Shame. Anyway, I need four communications personnel. Can you believe the _Farragut_ has _none_ right now? Can you think of any cadets who feel up to the task of jumping into a senior communications chief slot?"

Spock ran a quick search for fourth-year communications cadets, even though he already knew whose name would appear at the top of the list. "Cadets Uhura, Marzal, and Upton are all within one one-hundredth of a point in terms of grade point average," he told the admiral.

"Then give me whoever you think would do the best job. I'll leave the rest of this to you. I need to go back-brief my new bridge crew."

Spock hesitated. This was a temporary mission. Assigning Nyota to serve on the _Farragut_ under Admiral Lui was a logical decision. It would help him avoid the appearance of favoritism and he was confident she was the best qualified for this senior communications chief position. Once the mission to Vulcan was over, she would return to the Academy, graduate, and assume her posting to _Enterprise_. He added her name to the _Farragut's_ roster without a second thought.

Unfortunately, Nyota had _many_ thoughts about her new assignment and had no qualms with making them known. He was in Hangar 1 cross-referencing the _Enterprise's_ authorized dilithium reserves with their current supply when she found him. His mind had been too focused on his task and repressing the lingering feelings of worry for his home planet to notice her approach.

Spock wasn't entirely surprised by her boldness – Nyota was nothing if not outspoken – but he was intrigued by her willingness to do it in such an open forum after recent events. She even went so far as to remind him of the senior training mission when he'd praised her in front of Captain Pike, quoting verbatim his comment about her "exceptional aural sensitivity and an unparalleled ability to identify sonic anomalies in subspace transmissions tests." Apparently her memory was better than he'd given her credit for.

He attempted to explain his reasoning for assigning her to the _Farragut_ to avoid "the appearance of favoritism," to use Admiral Barnett's exact words, but she refused to accept his explanation.

"No, I'm assigned to the _Enterprise_ ," she insisted, locking eyes with him.

He felt an exhilarating rush being so close to her, but sensed it would be unwise to continue to stare at her in the presence of so many people. He turned his eyes to his PADD, switched her name with Cadet Marzal's, and replied, "Yes, I believe you are."

"Thank you," she replied, giving him a warm smile.

Forty minutes later, he boarded a shuttle bound for space dock. He sat in one of the rear-facing jump seats behind the pilot and because she was one of the last to board, Nyota took up the last available seat directly across from him. The shuttle was full of the anxious and excited chatter of cadets and the moment the thrusters engaged, several cheers rang out through the cabin.

As the _Enterprise_ came into view as they approached space dock, Spock was struck by an inexplicable feeling of apprehension. He faced forward to re-center himself and noticed Nyota was giving him a searching look. He'd wondered if he would regret reassigning her to _Enterprise_ , but come what may, he was very glad she was with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update, but there's only one more chapter left after this one. Hard to believe it's almost over. I'm assuming if you're reading this story, you've seen _Star Trek: 2009_ , and given the film and the overabundance of fanfic about it, I'm not really sure what I could add to the existing canon/fanon. Thank you to everyone who's helped me make this story what it is.


	30. The Final Frontier

**Two months later…**

Nyota gazed around the auditorium at all the brand new cadets behind her. It was hard to believe the last time she'd sat here, she'd been preparing to watch James Kirk get kicked out of Starfleet Academy for cheating. Now he was being promoted to ship captain and put in charge of _Enterprise_.

She wasn't sure who was the bigger fool: Starfleet for promoting him or her for agreeing to serve under him. What the hell had she been thinking? That guy was going to be her commanding officer. He was still cocky and arrogant as hell and she hadn't forgotten all the things he'd said and done at the Academy, but all those hours on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ two months earlier had given her a firsthand look at Kirk's hound dog style of loyalty. After she'd really thought about it, Nyota would much rather serve under someone who would go to the end of the galaxy for any member of his crew than someone who followed regulations to the letter.

This gathering was about more than Kirk's promotion and the transfer of command ceremony for the _Enterprise_. She and the surviving cadets had officially graduated 58 days ago, but they ceremony to mark the occasion had been converted into a memorial ceremony. It seemed only fitting, what with more than 80 percent of the graduating class having died at Vulcan.

Nyota couldn't remember the exact numbers. No one really talked about it. More than 6 billion had died on Vulcan alone, plus another million or so all along the west coast of the North American continent. The _Narada_ 's drill had penetrated the Earth's crust near the San Andreas fault line, and the result had been devastating earthquakes, tsunamis, and landslides from Mexico to Alaska. So a few thousand dead Starfleet personnel and cadets were a drop in the bucket in the grand scheme of things, but not to the people who knew them.

Almost everyone she knew from the Academy – teachers and students alike – was dead. Starfleet had lost eight ships that day, the _Antares_ , _Armstrong_ , _Farragut_ , _Hood_ , _Mayflower_ , _Newton_ , _Truman_ , and _Walcott_. A several dozen students had been rescued from escape pods by a Denobulan freighter, and about a third of the crew of the _Truman_ had survived in an airtight section of the ship's mangled saucer. Hundreds of escape pods had been launched, but most had sustained significant damage from the thick debris that had compromised the pods' pressurization, power supply, or distress beacons.

Whenever she thought about her friends and teachers dying like that, alone and afraid, it threatened to destroy her. Lieutenant Bautista's death probably hit her the hardest. She had been on the _Truman_ and had she given her life to save the rest of the crew. Reports were that she had been the senior surviving officer and had elected to leave the safety of the airtight wreckage of the ship to manually activate a secondary bulkhead and seal a minor hull breach. Had it not been for her, the _Truman_ 's survivors would have all died slow and painful deaths from decompression sickness. Nyota sniffed, trying to avoid the onset of tears.

Commander Riegelman had been temporary first officer of the _Walcott_. Jeremy Weber had been with her. They were both dead. Marzal the Ardanan who had been her fiercest rival and had later become her friend, had died on the _Farragut_. His death was especially painful, knowing that it should have been her: Spock had only switched their names after she'd bullied him into it. She knew she shouldn't feel guilty – she couldn't have known what would happen and it was all just an awful roll of the dice – but a tiny part of her felt responsible. Lieutenant Akamatsu had died on the _Armstrong_ , and though Nyota hated the woman, she refused to relish in her death.

Gaila had miraculously survived for two days in an escape pod. She was one of the 37 rescued from the debris field. It had taken Gaila a month of neural reconfiguration therapy just to be able to function in her daily life. She remained jumpy and horribly claustrophobic – she still couldn't bring herself to ride in even the largest turbolift – but therapy was helping her a lot.

There weren't a whole lot of survivors without emotional scars. Most everyone would admit to at least having nightmares. Nyota had gotten through those early weeks with the help of sedatives and sleep aids. She would have preferred to get through them with Spock, but she was beginning to think the experience of losing his mother and his home world had broken him beyond repair.

He had been holding himself together by some kind of logical thread during their mission, seemingly driven by the singular purpose of stopping Nero, but once it had all been over and the dust had settled, he'd started falling apart. Most of the survivors of the Academy had been temporarily relocated to lodgings in Phoenix while structural engineers assessed the damage to the dormitories and other campus buildings. In the end, about a third of the Academy had to be demolished from the damage caused from the earthquakes created by Nero's drill.

She spent the night with Spock that first night in Phoenix. They got a hotel room together, _openly_ , almost daring anyone to say anything. They even passed Admiral Barnett in the parking lot, but all he did was give them a grim nod and keep walking in the other direction.

The sex wasn't hungry or exciting like it had always been before, but became something desperate and essential. She cried and he held her. They lay there, bodies intertwined and sweating between thin hotel sheets, until she fell asleep. When she woke up, she found Spock kneeling naked in the corner, silent tears running down his face. Nyota panicked and hugged and kissed him desperately, but he seemed lost to the world. She finally convinced him to return to bed with her, but when she awoke the next morning, he was gone. He left a simple note explaining he was leaving later that day on a ship for a new Vulcan colony with his father and Spock the ambassador.

That had been two months ago, and she hadn't heard from him since. He hadn't officially resigned from Starfleet, but his status remained as being on "personal leave." It was like he'd not only broken up with her, but with his whole former _life_. There were times when she understood why he left and times when she hated him for leaving, but she never stopped caring about him. Or _missing_ him.

The auditorium started to fill up and she glanced at the fresh faces of the cadets behind her. She had probably looked the same way four years ago. Starfleet Academy had lost more than 80 percent of its faculty and 70 percent of its total student body, but new teachers had arrived and the incoming class of first year students twice as large as it usually was. The losses incurred at Vulcan would have a serious impact on Starfleet leadership for decades to come – four years' worth of potential Academy graduates had been decimated, and no matter how quickly Starfleet tried to replace them, there would be lingering problems with promotions and retirements.

Starfleet was a chain and people moved up it every year. Starfleet anticipated a certain number of cadets graduating each year to fill positions at the bottom, but the loss of so many students meant a huge link was now missing. For the next four years, Starfleet would get only a fraction of the people they needed to fill junior assignments. Mid-career officers were going to be tasked to make up the shortages, meaning they were in effect going to be demoted out of circumstance. With fewer mid-career officers to replace them, senior officers were going to have to serve beyond typical retirement age. It was a personnel resources nightmare.

Someone slid into the seat next to her. Nyota attempted to give a genuine smile, but her heart wasn't in it. "Hey, Gaila."

"Hey."

"What did the psychologist say?"

"Oh you know, the same old stuff. She won't clear me for space duty yet."

Nyota said nothing, because she wasn't sure how Gaila felt about it. She seemed to go back and forth between being terrified of going back out and disappointed about the possibility of remaining on Earth.

"It's only a six-month bar," Gaila continued with a sigh. "While I get better, you know. It's probably for the best."

"All that matters is what's best for you," Nyota replied, squeezing her arm.

"You're still leaving on _Enterprise_ then?" Gaila asked.

Nyota's breath caught in her throat. _Enterprise_ had been salvaged and had spent the past two months in space dock undergoing a massive overhaul. It was scheduled to do a series of planetary surveys and Kirk had offered her a position as senior communications officer. The last she'd heard, Kirk was still searching for a first officer. Spock must not have wanted the job, which she understood… _sort of_. Kirk was really hard to swallow at times.

A small part of her wanted to stay behind. Her mother certainly would have loved the idea. When Nyota had spent a week in Mombasa last month, she'd almost been certain her mother was going to lock her in a closet and hold her hostage until she agreed to give up the whole Starfleet business. It had been tempting to give in to M'Umbha – so many of her friends were dead and would Starfleet really miss one more junior officer in the grand scheme of things?

She'd slept on it and decided that it didn't matter – this had been her dream for more than a decade, she'd worked hard for four years, and she felt like she owed it to the people who died to carry on a legacy they would never get to fulfill. When she _really_ thought about it, she decided she _had_ to go back. It almost didn't feel like a choice.

She didn't want to serve on the _Enterprise_ without Spock, but she would if she had to. Her career had to come first. She appreciated the difficult time Spock was going through and would have given anything to support him through it, but he hadn't even given her the choice. He had made that choice for her when he left in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye. So he'd gone his way and she would go hers; it would be ridiculous to sit around waiting for him on the off chance that he ever got his life together and decided he wanted to be with her again.

"Nyota?" Gaila murmured.

"Yeah?"

"I'm really going to miss you."

Nyota clutched Gaila's arm more tightly and nodded, sensing she was on the verge of tears. "I'll miss you too."

"Do you know how long it's going to take me to convince a new roommate to let me wear her underwear?"

Nyota barked an instinctive laugh. "Do you know how long it's going to take me to get used to a roommate who _doesn't_ wear my underwear?"

"Admiral on deck," cried a male voice from the other end of the room.

The auditorium leapt to its feet as Admiral Barnett cruised in through a side entrance. She saw Kirk shuffling nervously on the floor below and Pike being wheeled in. She wondered what it was like for him, giving Kirk temporary command of his ship while he recovered from the things the Romulans had done to him. She would have liked to serve under Christopher Pike.

She noticed a dark object move high above out of the corner of her eye and glanced up to the balcony to see Spock. Not _her_ Spock, the other one. Spock as he would be more than a hundred years from now. Nyota's heart started thumping wildly in her chest. If Ambassador Spock had returned to Earth, then maybe _Commander_ Spock had come with him.

Admiral Barnett ordered them to sit and she searched the crowd, looking for _her_ Spock. He wasn't with the faculty, nor was he on the balcony. Where _was_ he? Maybe he hadn't come with the ambassador.

The assembly took longer than she'd anticipated. Following Kirk's promotion ceremony, Admiral Barnett honored the people in the room who had answered Vulcan's distress call with a highly informal graduation ceremony. Ambassador Spock addressed them briefly, thanking them for their service and urging them not to be put off of space exploration by the awful events from several months earlier.

Barnett greeted the massive class of new cadets and launched into a speech about rebuilding and unity. Nyota was only half listening. She kept searching the back of the room and the side entrances for Spock, but she knew in her heart he hadn't come.

That evening, a small group of former cadets, now newly minted ensigns and lieutenants, went out for drinks at the Brass Oyster. Some, like herself and Sulu, were leaving for their new assignments tomorrow while others like Gaila would be remaining behind. It felt like the end of era, and it _was_.

The group broke up early and at 2100 hours, she made her way back to her temporary lodgings on the west end of campus. She was tipsy and wanted to get slobbering drunk one last time before three months in space, but it wouldn't solve anything. Besides, she was due to report to _Enterprise_ tomorrow at 0800 hours, and the last thing she needed was to be hung-over for her first official shift as Lieutenant Uhura. Not Cadet Uhura or Lieutenant-for-now Uhura, but _Lieutenant Uhura_.

She flopped down on her bed and stared at the tiled ceiling. She inhaled deeply, feeling frustration beginning to overwhelm her. It was amazing how quickly she could adapt. She used to think finishing her thesis and not getting caught dating Commander Spock were the most stressful things – how innocent she had been. It was much worse to lose so many friends, have Spock walk out on her, and wonder if she was making the right decision to get on a starship under the command of _Captain_ Kirk for a mission to some far-flung planetary system. How could everything change so quickly?

The door buzzed, and Nyota was so caught in her internal musings that she jumped in surprise. She glanced at the clock – 2204 hours. Thinking it was probably Gaila coming to have one last girl chat, she stumbled to the door and hit the release. Her breath caught in her throat.

There he was, standing there innocently, like he hadn't just disappeared for two months. _Spock_. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him until her lips hurt, then yell at him for leaving, then kiss him some more, but she managed to keep her cool and asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you."

The most obvious question, asked and answered.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," she said, her voice unnecessarily hostile.

"I know."

"So why are you here?"

"I believe I already explained-"

"Oh my God, Spock, just come inside."

He wandered over the threshold and as the door shut behind him. They stared at each other for almost an entire minute, each of them waiting for the other person to say something or offer some kind of explanation. Finally, Nyota couldn't hold it in any longer. Two months of grief, longing, confusion, hurt, and loneliness erupted from her mouth.

"You left me with no explanation!"

"I left a note-"

"But you didn't tell me what you were doing! You just _left_! You never answered any of my messages and you couldn't even bother to explain _why_!"

Spock took a cautious step forward. "My father asked me to visit the proposed colony with him. As he and Ambassador Spock are the only family I have remaining, I wished to bridge the divide that had grown between us in the wake of my mother's death."

Nyota's cheeks started to burn with shame and anger. "And I would have understood that and respected that if you had told me. But you disappeared in the middle of the night. I've missed you."

His eyebrows furrowed and he bobbed his head. "Perhaps you were owed a more detailed explanation of my reasons for leaving."

Nyota took a series of deep breaths. She wanted to scream, " _No kidding_ ," but he was clearly trying to explain himself. She supposed it was the closest thing to an apology she was going to get, and she would much rather make peace and move on than find reasons to stay angry.

"So why did you come back to Earth? Are you back for good?"

"I returned with Ambassador Spock who is scheduled to address the Federation Council and present a proposal for the New Vulcan colony tomorrow."

"That's _how_ you ended up back here, but _why_ did you come?"

"I came to see you, as I have already stated."

That was all he had to say. She was still angry, but her resentment started to melt away. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He kissed her in return, and for a brief moment, it was like nothing else mattered. She started to push him back toward the bed, but he grabbed her wrists and extricated himself from their kiss.

"What?" she blurted.

"You are leaving tomorrow."

"Come with us. Come with _me_. _Enterprise_ still doesn't have a first officer and-"

"Ambassador Spock has urged me to do as you suggest," Spock interrupted.

"So what's the problem?"

"My father has asked if I would consider resigning my commission and remain on the New Vulcan colony."

A slow, faint ringing began in Nyota's ears. "So what are you going to do?"

"I have come to ask if you would consider doing the same."

"Wait, _what_?"

"Resign from Starfleet and come to New Vulcan with me."

"I... _what_?"

"I believe I spoke clearly."

"You want me to quit a job that I've been dreaming of for years, working toward for years… a job I haven't even started yet, just to move to a remote colony world with a guy who couldn't even bother to tell me in person he was leaving me for two months?"

Spock's eyes darted from side to side. Nyota's jaw fell open. He clearly didn't get it.

"I came to ask if you would consider joining me on New Vulcan and consent to be my bondmate."

"Like your _wife_?"

"Yes."

Tears started to fall down her cheeks, but she wasn't sure what variety they were. Shock, anger, hurt, love… maybe all of those things. "You run away without telling me why and you show up out of the blue and ask me to _marry_ you?"

"I cannot alter my past decisions, but-"

"Spock, I'm only 22 years old," she interrupted. "I'm not ready to settle down. Maybe in a few years, but I can't right now."

He nodded. "I see."

"You _see_?"

"I do not know what you would have me say, Nyota."

"Say you'll compromise! Come with us on this mission. It's only three months! If you hate it, you can go back to New Vulcan."

"I do not believe Captain Kirk and myself are well-suited to work together."

"I don't think anyone's 'well-suited' to him!" she snapped. "But as much as I hate to admit it, he was right about everything and we're both alive because of him."

"I should go," he said softly. "I have much upon which to reflect."

"Is this you running away again?" she retorted.

"No. I merely wish to meditate."

Nyota sighed, and her sigh turned into a frustrated growl. "Fine, I'll see you out."

She walked him to the door, but just as he was about to engage the door release, she stopped him. "I'm boarding _Enterprise_ tomorrow at 0800 and we leave spacedock at 1200. Don't let me leave without seeing you again," she pleaded, giving him a desperate hug that he didn't return.

And then he was gone. She was unable to get to sleep while her feelings cycled between anger, sadness, and regret. How could he just spring a marriage proposal on her like that? Was he _insane_? Maybe she should have accepted. No, _that_ was insane. She was about as ready to get married as she was ready to go shopping for a burial plot.

At 0600 hours, she rolled out of bed, replicated some extra strong tea, and got dressed in a standard red Starfleet dress. No more cadet's uniforms. She pulled her hair back, put her makeup on, and said goodbye to Earth for the next three months. She waited for Spock at the spacedock until the very last minute, and when he didn't arrive, she felt equal parts crushed and furious. She boarded _Enterprise_ and got to work along with the rest of the crew, running final diagnostics and checks and preparing to leave orbit.

The next hours ticked by slowly, but the closer it drew to 1200 hours, the more certain she was Spock had made his decision. What had she expected, anyway? Their lives had become entwined for a brief period at the Academy, but now that time was at an end. Spock was her first love, but maybe he wasn't the love of her life. Maybe they had been kidding themselves anyway – most relationships in Starfleet didn't stand the test of time . Rotating assignments, promotions, and all kinds of things drove people apart.

At 1155 hours, the captain emerged from the turbolift and Nyota completely abandoned hope that Spock was coming. He hadn't even come to say goodbye. She took a deep breath, telling herself it was going to be ok and trying to present a calm outward appearance.

"How are we doing, crew?" Kirk called as the turbo lift shut behind him.

"Maneuvering thrusters and impulse engines at your command, sir," Sulu replied.

"Weapons and systems and shields on standby," Chekov said.

"Dock control reports ready, captain," she added.

The captain took his seat and she displayed a thin smile. This was it. She'd never realized it was possible to be so excited and so disappointed at the same time.

But then at 1158 hours… there he was, asking permission to come aboard and offering to fill the still vacant first officer seat. Nyota stood in shock behind the starchart display, almost refusing to believe this was really happening. He'd come with two minutes to spare. A testament to Vulcan indifference to human nerves. A few seconds later, Spock moved toward the science officer's station and finally made eye contact with her.

She mouthed the words, "You came."

He gave her a small nod and a knowing look, and she smiled so widely her mouth threatened to break. They sat next to each other for the next eight hours, her at the comm station and him running diagnostics on the long range scanners. There was so much to say, but this was neither the time nor place, and the only words that passed between them were purely professional.

When the first shift ended, she left the bridge but he remained behind to talk to the captain. She returned to her quarters, quarters that were right down the hall from his, and quickly dressed herself in civilian clothes. She was exhausted and feeling like she was going to sorely regret not sleeping the night before, but she didn't care.

She wasn't sure how she knew Spock was in his room, but she did, and when she hit the door buzzer, he appeared almost immediately. He was still in his uniform, but he was handsome as ever, and Vulcan as ever with his hands folded behind his back and a neutral expression on his face. He stepped aside to let her in without saying a word, and the moment the door was closed, she asked, "Why are you here?"

"I came to see you."

They shared a gentle kiss, which turned into a passionate kiss, which turned into more physical passion. He kept his hands away from her face the entire time, but when they were done, she rested her chin on his chest and asked, "Will you meld with me?" He seemed hesitant.

"I don't want to have secrets from you any more," she continued. "What happened months ago with Kirk and Gaila is in the past. We both made mistakes, but I want to start over."

"It is illogical to pretend that which has transpired has not."

"I agree," she said, sitting up on her haunches. "But I don't ever want to do this again, this whole not being able to talk to each other thing."

"I did not anticipate my departure would cause you significant emotional distress."

Her mouth drifted open and she was about to yelp, "What part of abandoning me did you think I would like?" but she stopped herself. She pulled the sheet off of him, wrapped it around her body, and shuffled to the planning board on the opposite wall. She tapped it to activate it, pulled the stylus from its perch at the top, and wrote, "Will this upset Nyota?"

"What are you doing?" Spock asked.

"Months ago we talked about making a new algorithm but we never got around to it," she explained, making a circle around the words "Will this upset Nyota?" and drawing a series of lines away from it to begin a new flowchart.

Directly underneath it the first item, she wrote, "Am I about to make a life-altering decision?" and made two paths leading out from it for "yes" and "no." Under the "yes" option, she wrote, "Have I discussed it with Nyota?"

Spock joined her at the planning board, observing her progress. He was completely naked, which she found impossible to ignore. She glanced at him, and the moment she was distracted from her task, he slid his hands over her jaw to meet their minds together. She pulled him into a kiss. They tumbled onto the floor and Spock crawled over her, pressing his hips down on hers.

"Since when do _you_ get distracted?" she laughed, pushing him away playfully.

"Since I have realized how much I care for you."

She gazed at him in disbelief. How could a person go from almost robotic to completely romantic at the drop of a hat? She studied his eyes, seeing an expression she'd never seen before. She almost felt like telling him she loved him, but it was too soon for that. Or maybe he already knew and they didn't _need_ to say it.

"Furthermore, I was informed this was a three month planetary survey mission, and I believe three months is more than sufficient to develop a new algorithm."

She didn't mean to laugh, but she couldn't help it. Robot to Romeo and back again. But for now he was hers, and she wouldn't have him any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One year ago, I published my very first Spock/Uhura story called Your Turn. More than 215,000 words later, it turned into a whole series. There are a couple of people I have to thank for that. An Algorithm for Dating wouldn't have been written were it not for AdelphiaHighbrow's pestering, but I also owe KerryLamb, powmeow, and Sudata7 from the now defunct Imzy site for encouraging me with this pairing. I also owe all the people who left reviews or dropping PMs of encouragement a huge thank you from the bottom of my heart.


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